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 the UAE and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Visage to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mandrill,
Black Bananas,
The Young Rascals,
Maurizio,
PIL,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bauhaus,
Porter Ricks,
Pantytec,
Bob Dylan,
Pussy Galore,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dave Gahan,
Can,
Niagra,
Severed Heads,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deepchord,
The Raincoats,
Make Up,
Bill Near,
The Trojans,
Eurythmics,
Schoolly D,
Roger Hodgson,
F. McDonald,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
The Toasters,
Pantaleimon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gang Starr,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fall,
Country Teasers,
The Star Department,
Moss Icon,
Mad Mike,
Nick Fraelich,
Nas,
The Red Krayola,
Pulsallama,
Eli Mardock,
Johnny Clarke,
One Last Wish,
Dead Boys,
Zapp,
Robert Hood,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ronan,
Desert Stars,
The United States of America,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.