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 India and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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 Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fire Engines,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barrington Levy,
These Immortal Souls,
The Durutti Column,
Fat Boys,
Eurythmics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
B.T. Express,
The United States of America,
Bootsy Collins,
Make Up,
The J.B.'s,
The Angels of Light,
Avey Tare,
Vladislav Delay,
Delta 5,
Bill Near,
The Selecter,
Schoolly D,
Con Funk Shun,
Angry Samoans,
Section 25,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
JFA,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
Audionom,
The Wake,
Essential Logic,
Godley & Creme,
Crooked Eye,
Dead Boys,
Y Pants,
Kenny Larkin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Althea and Donna,
Guru Guru,
Index,
Subhumans,
Absolute Body Control,
Brothers Johnson,
Swans,
Goldenarms,
Michelle Simonal,
Charles Mingus,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
K-Klass,
Suicide,
the Human League,
Fad Gadget,
Ultravox,
Pantytec,
Arcadia,
Jeff Lynne,
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.