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 South Sudan and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator 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 Sisters of Mercy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Cramps,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABBA,
H. Thieme,
Deakin,
Delta 5,
Procol Harum,
The Cure,
In Retrospect,
Swell Maps,
The Count Five,
Jeff Lynne,
Connie Case,
Max Romeo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
the Germs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bill Wells,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Byrd,
Television Personalities,
Soul Sonic Force,
Masters at Work,
Yazoo,
The Sonics,
Ralphi Rosario,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lyres,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Smiths,
Brick,
Fat Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
Bootsy Collins,
Dark Day,
Steve Hackett,
Rites of Spring,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Whodini,
The Doors,
Ohio Players,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Blancmange,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
Minutemen,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slackers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Donald Byrd,
Adolescents,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ronan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.