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 Liechtenstein and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Tomorrow to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Wolf Eyes,
Theoretical Girls,
Oblivians,
Symarip,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Carl Craig,
Bobby Womack,
Eden Ahbez,
Big Daddy Kane,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Soft Cell,
Dual Sessions,
Colin Newman,
Joey Negro,
CMW,
H. Thieme,
Robert Hood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
UT,
Marc Almond,
The Litter,
Judy Mowatt,
Kayak,
Scrapy,
Q and Not U,
Underground Resistance,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare,
Sugar Minott,
The Divine Comedy,
Pierre Henry,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
Young Marble Giants,
AZ,
Black Pus,
Surgeon,
Y Pants,
Barry Ungar,
Shoche,
Pantytec,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Guru Guru,
The Victims,
Eli Mardock,
The Wake,
Lindisfarne,
Section 25,
Glambeats Corp.,
Todd Terry,
Warsaw,
Delta 5,
Bizarre Inc.,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scan 7,
The Doors,
Reuben Wilson,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.