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 Denmark and from Lyon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Godley & Creme to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
The Saints,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dirtbombs,
Nico,
Mars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Remains,
Sarah Menescal,
ABBA,
The Slackers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Accadde A,
Jandek,
Barry Ungar,
Eddi Front,
48th St. Collective,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ice-T,
Tres Demented,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eric Copeland,
Hasil Adkins,
Alphaville,
Warsaw,
Kenny Larkin,
MDC,
the Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Excepter,
the Human League,
Yusef Lateef,
Sun Ra,
Angry Samoans,
the Slits,
Sällskapet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rufus Thomas,
Anakelly,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Real Kids,
The Doors,
The Trojans,
Dave Gahan,
Funky Four + One,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Smoke,
Radiohead,
Peter & Gordon,
Gabor Szabo,
Royal Trux,
Lindisfarne,
Pussy Galore,
Juan Atkins,
Deadbeat,
Tubeway Army,
The Move,
Silicon Teens,
Con Funk Shun,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
The Seeds,
Arcadia,
Ponytail,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.