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 Palau and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
John Lydon,
Reagan Youth,
Pole,
Tommy Roe,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stereo Dub,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vladislav Delay,
E-Dancer,
Radiopuhelimet,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Durutti Column,
China Crisis,
Mo-Dettes,
Dennis Brown,
Pantaleimon,
Surgeon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Depeche Mode,
Lightning Bolt,
Sister Nancy,
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
Crime,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soft Cell,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hoover,
The Last Poets,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Normal,
Gang Starr,
Theoretical Girls,
Freddie Wadling,
Chris Corsano,
Icehouse,
Warsaw,
Television,
These Immortal Souls,
Half Japanese,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Don Cherry,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rosa Yemen,
Khruangbin,
Interpol,
Television Personalities,
Ice-T,
Moss Icon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Byrd,
Joy Division,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.