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 Turkmenistan and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tomorrow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Flash Fearless,
Faust,
Ultra Naté,
R.M.O.,
Howard Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Crash Course in Science,
Marine Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
The Birthday Party,
Drexciya,
Sam Rivers,
Index,
The J.B.'s,
The Doors,
Roxette,
Lindisfarne,
Amazonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bronski Beat,
Absolute Body Control,
The Seeds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scott Walker,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Pretty Things,
Davy DMX,
Mission of Burma,
Kerri Chandler,
Carl Craig,
Maurizio,
Animal Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
The Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Metal Thangz,
Anthony Braxton,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Lynne,
Swell Maps,
the Soft Cell,
Excepter,
The Red Krayola,
Skarface,
Vainqueur,
Laurel Aitken,
Michelle Simonal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.