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 Poland and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Count Five to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Smiths,
Wings,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
the Slits,
Lakeside,
ABC,
Terry Callier,
Peter & Gordon,
Buzzcocks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Thee Headcoats,
Joey Negro,
ABBA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Maurizio,
Derrick May,
Gang of Four,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gong,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultravox,
The Wake,
Slick Rick,
The Young Rascals,
Make Up,
Masters at Work,
Scan 7,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
Little Man,
Steve Hackett,
Mandrill,
Trumans Water,
Sight & Sound,
The Leaves,
The Blackbyrds,
Juan Atkins,
Massinfluence,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Don Cherry,
The Raincoats,
Mark Hollis,
Chris Corsano,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lalann,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suicide,
X-101,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Lynne,
JFA,
Angry Samoans,
John Holt,
Theoretical Girls,
New Order,
Underground Resistance,
Camberwell Now,
Cluster,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.