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 Bangladesh and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Dark Day to the funk 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
The Leaves,
Minutemen,
Boz Scaggs,
R.M.O.,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deakin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cybotron,
The Last Poets,
Gang of Four,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Victims,
Visage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Groovy Waters,
Buzzcocks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dennis Brown,
The Moody Blues,
Al Stewart,
Agent Orange,
The Slits,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dave Gahan,
H. Thieme,
Japan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DJ Style,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soft Cell,
Bluetip,
The Busters,
Ronnie Foster,
Pagans,
John Foxx,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magma,
Los Fastidios,
Jeff Mills,
Easy Going,
Minor Threat,
Harry Pussy,
The Toasters,
Lungfish,
Cymande,
Kaleidoscope,
Jacques Brel,
Joy Division,
Ornette Coleman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sound,
Wolf Eyes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joyce Sims,
Eli Mardock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Matthew Halsall,
The Neon Judgement,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.