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 France and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Dave Gahan to the punk 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Suburban Knight,
Bush Tetras,
Johnny Osbourne,
Country Teasers,
Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
The Sound,
Loose Ends,
The Doobie Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
The Star Department,
Jerry's Kids,
Zero Boys,
The New Christs,
Connie Case,
The Gladiators,
Davy DMX,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sun City Girls,
Eli Mardock,
Lalann,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Camouflage,
Robert Wyatt,
Rapeman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mark Hollis,
Letta Mbulu,
Yaz,
Model 500,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Drexciya,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masters at Work,
Althea and Donna,
Rites of Spring,
Oblivians,
Soul II Soul,
Warsaw,
Organ,
Funky Four + One,
Y Pants,
Swell Maps,
The Tremeloes,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Alison Limerick,
Carl Craig,
Procol Harum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Visage,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.