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 Iraq and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Joy Division to the funk 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 Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül II,
Audionom,
The Slits,
Inner City,
Lucky Dragons,
June of 44,
Symarip,
Depeche Mode,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tres Demented,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Severed Heads,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nik Kershaw,
Magma,
Aloha Tigers,
The Motions,
UT,
Al Stewart,
Metal Thangz,
Japan,
Connie Case,
Henry Cow,
Con Funk Shun,
Spoonie Gee,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gang Green,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jawbox,
Pantytec,
X-Ray Spex,
Howard Jones,
Barbara Tucker,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
Ten City,
Young Marble Giants,
New Order,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arthur Verocai,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dark Day,
Bush Tetras,
Hoover,
Letta Mbulu,
Joyce Sims,
Matthew Bourne,
Freddie Wadling,
Delta 5,
Wire,
The Happenings,
The Leaves,
Johnny Clarke,
Camouflage,
Negative Approach,
Spandau Ballet,
Judy Mowatt,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.