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 Sudan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 New Order to the rap 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Little Man,
Banda Bassotti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Maurizio,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter & Gordon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Litter,
New York Dolls,
Ultravox,
Bobby Sherman,
Funkadelic,
Marvin Gaye,
Second Layer,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Barracudas,
Whodini,
Television Personalities,
Sixth Finger,
The Doors,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Mummies,
Theoretical Girls,
Quantec,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blues Magoos,
X-102,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nico,
Hasil Adkins,
Bob Dylan,
Erasure,
Thompson Twins,
Deakin,
Man Parrish,
Deadbeat,
Yazoo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Simply Red,
The Dead C,
L. Decosne,
Barrington Levy,
Laurel Aitken,
DJ Sneak,
Royal Trux,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Smog,
Connie Case,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bill Wells,
The Names,
Warsaw,
Aswad,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joey Negro,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Godley & Creme,
The Buckinghams,
Clear Light,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.