Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Cyprus and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Man Parrish to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
Rekid,
The Moody Blues,
Spandau Ballet,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aural Exciters,
Derrick May,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fall,
Jeff Mills,
Y Pants,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Angels of Light,
Junior Murvin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-Ray Spex,
Iggy Pop,
PIL,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mark Hollis,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Grass Roots,
The Skatalites,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Fraelich,
Talk Talk,
Lalann,
Rhythm & Sound,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
T. Rex,
Clear Light,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Whodini,
The Toasters,
R.M.O.,
H. Thieme,
Aswad,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Thompson Twins,
Throbbing Gristle,
Accadde A,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Slits,
The Litter,
Smog,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultravox,
Drexciya,
Sonic Youth,
Supertramp,
The Five Americans,
Ultra Naté,
John Coltrane,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.