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 Mozambique and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nils Olav to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide 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?
The Fall,
The Dave Clark Five,
Funky Four + One,
The Black Dice,
Television,
Fugazi,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Peter & Gordon,
Ultra Naté,
Tom Boy,
Gang of Four,
Donny Hathaway,
Sällskapet,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
MC5,
Gerry Rafferty,
Adolescents,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gregory Isaacs,
Niagra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monks,
The Star Department,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soft Machine,
Pulsallama,
Scott Walker,
Scion,
K-Klass,
Warsaw,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Flag,
LL Cool J,
Moby Grape,
The Remains,
Charles Mingus,
The Trojans,
DJ Style,
Dual Sessions,
Arab on Radar,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harry Pussy,
Nico,
Bobby Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brick,
Mission of Burma,
Black Sheep,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultravox,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang On A Can,
Michelle Simonal,
Eli Mardock,
Simply Red,
The Walker Brothers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.