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 United Kingdom and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Outsiders to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Kerri Chandler,
The Names,
Franke,
Guru Guru,
Mad Mike,
Camouflage,
The Smoke,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rekid,
Depeche Mode,
Slick Rick,
Deepchord,
Agitation Free,
The Gun Club,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sällskapet,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Matthew Bourne,
Banda Bassotti,
Eurythmics,
Slave,
The Sonics,
Bluetip,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Zeros,
The Monks,
Grey Daturas,
The Misunderstood,
Sparks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Smiths,
Delon & Dalcan,
Das Ding,
Goldenarms,
T. Rex,
Harmonia,
Judy Mowatt,
Wasted Youth,
Model 500,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Make Up,
Brick,
Robert Wyatt,
Aural Exciters,
Alphaville,
Sandy B,
DJ Sneak,
Zapp,
Loose Ends,
Erykah Badu,
Infiniti,
Ossler,
Marine Girls,
The Last Poets,
Arthur Verocai,
Roger Hodgson,
Don Cherry,
Japan,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.