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 Brazil and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
The Dirtbombs,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang Starr,
Smog,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Silicon Teens,
Soft Cell,
Stiv Bators,
Henry Cow,
The Blues Magoos,
Roy Ayers,
The Birthday Party,
Agent Orange,
Suicide,
Niagra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gabor Szabo,
David Bowie,
Little Man,
Japan,
Quantec,
Flash Fearless,
Slick Rick,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Organ,
The Slits,
Man Parrish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eurythmics,
PIL,
Joey Negro,
Spandau Ballet,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Sneak,
The Fugs,
Bobby Womack,
Toni Rubio,
Severed Heads,
Peter and Kerry,
Babytalk,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fela Kuti,
Wire,
Suburban Knight,
AZ,
B.T. Express,
The Detroit Cobras,
Warren Ellis,
New York Dolls,
Brass Construction,
Aaron Thompson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scrapy,
Ten City,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pantaleimon,
Roger Hodgson,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Icehouse,
Youth Brigade,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.