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 Haiti and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Deakin,
JFA,
Robert Wyatt,
Joensuu 1685,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
Jandek,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gories,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Warren Ellis,
Davy DMX,
Derrick May,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
Smog,
Youth Brigade,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Sheep,
Public Enemy,
The Mojo Men,
Skriet,
The Fall,
Scratch Acid,
Lungfish,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Icehouse,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gong,
The Misunderstood,
David McCallum,
The Durutti Column,
L. Decosne,
The Gladiators,
Pole,
LL Cool J,
Moss Icon,
Roy Ayers,
The Vogues,
Barbara Tucker,
The Offenders,
Groovy Waters,
Dave Gahan,
Morten Harket,
Gang Starr,
Bauhaus,
Marmalade,
Urselle,
Grauzone,
Pussy Galore,
Pantaleimon,
DJ Sneak,
Rotary Connection,
Derrick Morgan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Black Flag,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.