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 Kyrgyzstan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Tres Demented to the crunk 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Shoche,
John Lydon,
Janne Schatter,
Tommy Roe,
The Victims,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ice-T,
The Kinks,
E-Dancer,
UT,
JFA,
the Human League,
The Smiths,
Soft Machine,
Charles Mingus,
Aloha Tigers,
The Martian,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
Dave Gahan,
Josef K,
Technova,
The Invisible,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Swell Maps,
The Skatalites,
The Dirtbombs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pole,
the Slits,
Magazine,
The Fortunes,
Todd Rundgren,
Depeche Mode,
The Real Kids,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Don Cherry,
Harmonia,
Gang of Four,
The Birthday Party,
Hardrive,
Scan 7,
Derrick May,
Sällskapet,
Lou Christie,
Bauhaus,
Wire,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eli Mardock,
Inner City,
Monolake,
Flipper,
Con Funk Shun,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Grauzone,
Ronnie Foster,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.