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 United Kingdom and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
The Invisible,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Scratch Acid,
The Move,
ABBA,
Cluster,
Silicon Teens,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
Slave,
Maleditus Sound,
Scrapy,
Cybotron,
Dave Gahan,
Sparks,
The Barracudas,
Harry Pussy,
John Cale,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joensuu 1685,
Barbara Tucker,
Minnie Riperton,
Echospace,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Infiniti,
Eve St. Jones,
John Holt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pierre Henry,
Marmalade,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Real Kids,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Howard Jones,
Ken Boothe,
Agitation Free,
Crooked Eye,
Symarip,
Bobby Sherman,
Barry Ungar,
The Star Department,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Depeche Mode,
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Wyatt,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
Slick Rick,
Thee Headcoats,
CMW,
The Music Machine,
Archie Shepp,
The Grass Roots,
Fugazi,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Amon Düül,
World's Most,
Laurel Aitken,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.