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 Australia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Junior Murvin to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stetsasonic,
Visage,
Dark Day,
Scan 7,
The Count Five,
Organ,
Sparks,
Max Romeo,
The Divine Comedy,
Joey Negro,
The Techniques,
Leonard Cohen,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Inner City,
Bronski Beat,
Banda Bassotti,
Porter Ricks,
Magazine,
Whodini,
The Kinks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gories,
Sällskapet,
Junior Murvin,
H. Thieme,
The Pretty Things,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Trojans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jawbox,
Gang Starr,
Brand Nubian,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Newcleus,
Harmonia,
The Dirtbombs,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Cramps,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Zeros,
The Fugs,
Clear Light,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Surgeon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gong,
Mars,
Reuben Wilson,
Pagans,
Pole,
Zapp,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sun Ra,
Alice Coltrane,
The Music Machine,
Soul Sonic Force,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.