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 Dominica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Swell Maps to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Stiv Bators,
Ultravox,
Pharoah Sanders,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jerry's Kids,
Maleditus Sound,
U.S. Maple,
Metal Thangz,
Colin Newman,
Roxette,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
June of 44,
Girls At Our Best!,
Agent Orange,
Johnny Clarke,
The Martian,
EPMD,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scott Walker,
48th St. Collective,
Tommy Roe,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
The Gories,
Tom Boy,
Anakelly,
Magma,
Q65,
Flamin' Groovies,
Severed Heads,
John Holt,
Oblivians,
Scratch Acid,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Loose Ends,
Country Teasers,
Excepter,
The Sound,
Porter Ricks,
The Remains,
Camouflage,
This Heat,
Peter and Kerry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Boredoms,
David McCallum,
Albert Ayler,
The Star Department,
Sex Pistols,
Grey Daturas,
Neu!,
The J.B.'s,
Cameo,
The Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Symarip,
The Residents,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
Siglo XX,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.