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 South Africa and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Wyatt,
Aaron Thompson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nick Fraelich,
Flipper,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deepchord,
Adolescents,
kango's stein massive,
Bill Wells,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magma,
Wolf Eyes,
Underground Resistance,
Boredoms,
The Modern Lovers,
Thee Headcoats,
Rapeman,
Sun City Girls,
Guru Guru,
Public Enemy,
Half Japanese,
Khruangbin,
Barrington Levy,
Eve St. Jones,
Supertramp,
June of 44,
James White and The Blacks,
John Coltrane,
K-Klass,
Pylon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultra Naté,
T. Rex,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Gories,
Siglo XX,
Duran Duran,
The Blackbyrds,
Saccharine Trust,
Mars,
Panda Bear,
Main Source,
Pet Shop Boys,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Count Five,
Marine Girls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Associates,
The Leaves,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Franke,
Urselle,
The Fall,
Silicon Teens,
The Neon Judgement,
John Holt,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.