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 Bangladesh and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Dead C to the crunk 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hoover,
Aswad,
Vainqueur,
The Buckinghams,
The Sonics,
KRS-One,
Popol Vuh,
Goldenarms,
Oblivians,
Quantec,
Bauhaus,
The Human League,
the Germs,
New Order,
Mark Hollis,
The Fall,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Aloha Tigers,
New York Dolls,
The Real Kids,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David McCallum,
The Dirtbombs,
JFA,
Lungfish,
Grauzone,
Yaz,
Lakeside,
Theoretical Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Freddie Wadling,
Iggy Pop,
Deepchord,
Loose Ends,
Flipper,
Bush Tetras,
Andrew Hill,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glenn Branca,
Sex Pistols,
The Sound,
Absolute Body Control,
H. Thieme,
Gastr Del Sol,
Slick Rick,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Negative Approach,
The Vogues,
The Knickerbockers,
CMW,
Leonard Cohen,
The Smoke,
Faust,
Circle Jerks,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.