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 Tanzania and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Angels of Light to the rock 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Quando Quango,
Connie Case,
The Wake,
Masters at Work,
Arab on Radar,
The New Christs,
Ituana,
Hasil Adkins,
The Seeds,
Theoretical Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Minny Pops,
Marine Girls,
The United States of America,
Anakelly,
Ludus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pulsallama,
Funkadelic,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Faraquet,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
MC5,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Moby Grape,
The Martian,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cameo,
The Gories,
Negative Approach,
KRS-One,
48th St. Collective,
Underground Resistance,
Junior Murvin,
Iggy Pop,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Animal Collective,
Aural Exciters,
Scientists,
Electric Prunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
The Grass Roots,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABC,
Babytalk,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Judy Mowatt,
Massinfluence,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
The Cowsills,
The Moody Blues,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.