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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Cairo.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Dead Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Swans,
Rekid,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
The Knickerbockers,
Crime,
Lyres,
Boogie Down Productions,
PIL,
Fela Kuti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Crash Course in Science,
Mo-Dettes,
Joe Finger,
Ice-T,
Tropical Tobacco,
Monolake,
Von Mondo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bang On A Can,
Metal Thangz,
Susan Cadogan,
Smog,
T. Rex,
Joyce Sims,
Boredoms,
Warsaw,
Derrick May,
Technova,
Godley & Creme,
Eden Ahbez,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joey Negro,
Sun Ra,
The Sonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
Kenny Larkin,
Kayak,
Desert Stars,
Black Sheep,
Rakim,
Black Pus,
Marc Almond,
Tom Boy,
June Days,
Eli Mardock,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Womack,
Nas,
Monks,
Panda Bear,
The Seeds,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
H. Thieme,
Bluetip,
Buzzcocks,
The Happenings,
The Remains,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pantaleimon,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.