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 Togo and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bobby Sherman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
Gong,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Adolescents,
Liliput,
Pylon,
Von Mondo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Peter & Gordon,
Hot Snakes,
The Birthday Party,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kenny Larkin,
the Soft Cell,
Second Layer,
Roger Hodgson,
Patti Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Urselle,
Magazine,
the Swans,
Fluxion,
Curtis Mayfield,
Camberwell Now,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Albert Ayler,
Bob Dylan,
The Knickerbockers,
The Kinks,
Amon Düül II,
Yusef Lateef,
Royal Trux,
Clear Light,
Bluetip,
Niagra,
Malaria!,
Talk Talk,
The Sound,
Marine Girls,
Infiniti,
F. McDonald,
Wolf Eyes,
The Skatalites,
Outsiders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Interpol,
Throbbing Gristle,
In Retrospect,
Dark Day,
Ten City,
The Tremeloes,
Aswad,
Josef K,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pantytec,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Coltrane,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.