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 Korea South and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Camouflage to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Faust,
Rites of Spring,
Godley & Creme,
The J.B.'s,
Basic Channel,
Duran Duran,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eric Dolphy,
Eve St. Jones,
Magma,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Alison Limerick,
The Fugs,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Judy Mowatt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minor Threat,
Quadrant,
Black Bananas,
Circle Jerks,
B.T. Express,
Sight & Sound,
Sixth Finger,
Lindisfarne,
Crooked Eye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Modern Lovers,
Deakin,
Pere Ubu,
The Dirtbombs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bush Tetras,
L. Decosne,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Massinfluence,
CMW,
Vladislav Delay,
Stetsasonic,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers,
the Bar-Kays,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
Easy Going,
Warren Ellis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris & Cosey,
Hasil Adkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Connie Case,
Suburban Knight,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Little Man,
Archie Shepp,
Tom Boy,
Steve Hackett,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.