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 Chad and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare 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 Eddi Front to the grunge 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Radiohead,
Minnie Riperton,
The New Christs,
Harmonia,
Procol Harum,
Whodini,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Birthday Party,
The Zeros,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare,
Matthew Bourne,
Bizarre Inc.,
Aural Exciters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Niagra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Motions,
The Fire Engines,
Malaria!,
Qualms,
X-Ray Spex,
Wings,
Flamin' Groovies,
Model 500,
R.M.O.,
Hashim,
Blancmange,
Kayak,
The Red Krayola,
Q and Not U,
Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yaz,
Flipper,
the Association,
Parry Music,
Harry Pussy,
Matthew Halsall,
Fat Boys,
Neil Young,
James White and The Blacks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Make Up,
Amon Düül,
Monks,
June of 44,
Slave,
Laurel Aitken,
Pole,
Darondo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.