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 Norway and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Funkadelic to the techno 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Sixth Finger,
Amazonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Interpol,
Franke,
Section 25,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Harpers Bizarre,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Searchers,
Boredoms,
the Bar-Kays,
Massinfluence,
Agent Orange,
the Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Crash Course in Science,
The Moleskins,
Gabor Szabo,
Underground Resistance,
Angry Samoans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
Altered Images,
K-Klass,
Khruangbin,
Jawbox,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fortunes,
Blossom Toes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Supertramp,
Bauhaus,
Cluster,
Circle Jerks,
Pantytec,
The Durutti Column,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Moody Blues,
The Raincoats,
Wasted Youth,
Can,
Joe Smooth,
The Star Department,
Make Up,
CMW,
Jerry's Kids,
The Motions,
Black Sheep,
The Cure,
The Black Dice,
Lee Hazlewood,
Leonard Cohen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Funkadelic,
Brass Construction,
UT,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.