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 Italy and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ralphi Rosario to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Duran Duran,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harry Pussy,
Con Funk Shun,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wolf Eyes,
Glenn Branca,
Man Parrish,
Juan Atkins,
Chris & Cosey,
Vladislav Delay,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Amon Düül II,
The Seeds,
Neil Young,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Normal,
Amon Düül,
Isaac Hayes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mission of Burma,
Neu!,
Jacques Brel,
The Tremeloes,
Graham Central Station,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Blackbyrds,
Rosa Yemen,
T.S.O.L.,
Talk Talk,
Maleditus Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wire,
The Cure,
Henry Cow,
Tropical Tobacco,
Banda Bassotti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Chris Corsano,
Sparks,
Bobby Byrd,
Surgeon,
Skaos,
Average White Band,
Davy DMX,
Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
The Gladiators,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Funky Four + One,
Ludus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lucky Dragons,
The Kinks,
the Swans,
Hoover,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sugar Minott,
Jimmy McGriff,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.