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 Palau and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
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 The Happenings to the grime 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lalann,
The Smoke,
Carl Craig,
CMW,
Hasil Adkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantaleimon,
Stiv Bators,
Bauhaus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobby Sherman,
The Fortunes,
Joy Division,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Modern Lovers,
Aswad,
The Neon Judgement,
Clear Light,
June Days,
Sex Pistols,
James White and The Blacks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ten City,
The Fall,
T.S.O.L.,
Icehouse,
Thompson Twins,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gladiators,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marc Almond,
Jacques Brel,
Joe Smooth,
Boredoms,
Royal Trux,
The Pretty Things,
Maleditus Sound,
Parry Music,
Sixth Finger,
Tres Demented,
Essential Logic,
Charles Mingus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Yaz,
The Mojo Men,
David Bowie,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Buzzcocks,
Camberwell Now,
Morten Harket,
Brothers Johnson,
China Crisis,
Amon Düül,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.