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 Madagascar and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Busters to the electroclash 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jacob Miller,
Piero Umiliani,
FM Einheit,
Desert Stars,
The Misunderstood,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mo-Dettes,
Rapeman,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
Gang Green,
Peter & Gordon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Blancmange,
Radio Birdman,
The Mummies,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Masters at Work,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Vogues,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Pretty Things,
Pulsallama,
Blake Baxter,
Fat Boys,
David Bowie,
The Walker Brothers,
Leonard Cohen,
Lou Reed,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skarface,
Ultra Naté,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alphaville,
Inner City,
K-Klass,
Quantec,
Brand Nubian,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Y Pants,
Motorama,
In Retrospect,
Soft Cell,
Fear,
Hoover,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roy Ayers,
Bob Dylan,
Roger Hodgson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Average White Band,
The Zeros,
Icehouse,
Ten City,
Tears for Fears,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
ABBA,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.