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 India and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Nirvana to the rap 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lungfish,
Arthur Verocai,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Shadows of Knight,
Patti Smith,
Vainqueur,
Todd Terry,
Con Funk Shun,
The Divine Comedy,
Mr. Review,
10cc,
This Heat,
Vladislav Delay,
A Certain Ratio,
The Knickerbockers,
Dawn Penn,
Marvin Gaye,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fall,
Joe Finger,
Althea and Donna,
Porter Ricks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Suicide,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bronski Beat,
Bill Near,
The Cramps,
Skaos,
Robert Görl,
Alphaville,
Sister Nancy,
The Beau Brummels,
X-101,
Yaz,
John Cale,
Scott Walker,
H. Thieme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Piero Umiliani,
Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
Hardrive,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Make Up,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Sonics,
Ten City,
Man Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
Drexciya,
Easy Going,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scratch Acid,
Jacob Miller,
Rhythm & Sound,
Whodini,
Gregory Isaacs,
Faraquet,
Yusef Lateef,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.