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 Poland and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lyon.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Halsall to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Laurel Aitken,
Mr. Review,
Procol Harum,
The Leaves,
Lucky Dragons,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Pus,
Easy Going,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Avey Tare,
The Seeds,
Matthew Halsall,
Mark Hollis,
Talk Talk,
Camouflage,
Smog,
Porter Ricks,
Wire,
Bobby Sherman,
PIL,
Soft Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ultravox,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alison Limerick,
K-Klass,
Prince Buster,
The Detroit Cobras,
48th St. Collective,
Harpers Bizarre,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
MDC,
Icehouse,
Mantronix,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Sneak,
UT,
Rotary Connection,
Mission of Burma,
Buzzcocks,
Franke,
the Bar-Kays,
Archie Shepp,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fall,
Television,
D'Angelo,
Byron Stingily,
Whodini,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dave Gahan,
Josef K,
Marshall Jefferson,
a-ha,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eden Ahbez,
AZ,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.