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 Senegal 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 Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rap 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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas 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?
The Litter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
A Certain Ratio,
DJ Sneak,
Gang Starr,
Guru Guru,
June Days,
Archie Shepp,
The Gories,
Negative Approach,
Barclay James Harvest,
OOIOO,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wally Richardson,
Scan 7,
Groovy Waters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
Television,
These Immortal Souls,
X-Ray Spex,
The Birthday Party,
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pagans,
Los Fastidios,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
Rites of Spring,
Dead Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
Talk Talk,
Harmonia,
Erasure,
K-Klass,
The Dead C,
Quantec,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Symarip,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
Ultra Naté,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Barbara Tucker,
Adolescents,
Q65,
Fugazi,
Unrelated Segments,
48th St. Collective,
The Invisible,
Davy DMX,
Harry Pussy,
Black Flag,
Kenny Larkin,
The Cure,
Altered Images,
Joey Negro,
Ten City,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.