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 Togo and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Clear Light to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sonics,
Make Up,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Josef K,
Brick,
Kurtis Blow,
The Wake,
Hashim,
The Searchers,
Desert Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Arab on Radar,
The Stooges,
This Heat,
Fluxion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fela Kuti,
The Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Johnny Clarke,
EPMD,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Liliput,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Buzzcocks,
Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Lydon,
Fugazi,
Nico,
The Moody Blues,
The Birthday Party,
Matthew Halsall,
New Age Steppers,
Chris Corsano,
The Real Kids,
Lucky Dragons,
the Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fad Gadget,
Metal Thangz,
Model 500,
Gong,
The Vogues,
Pagans,
Cheater Slicks,
Skaos,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hot Snakes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
New Order,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bad Manners,
Ronnie Foster,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.