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 Andorra and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Leonard Cohen to the crunk 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Y Pants,
Shoche,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Technova,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Residents,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cameo,
The Gories,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eve St. Jones,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Parry Music,
Cymande,
The Evens,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Starr,
MC5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Model 500,
Funkadelic,
Audionom,
Fat Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fugs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Blossom Toes,
Robert Hood,
Alison Limerick,
Porter Ricks,
Aaron Thompson,
June Days,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grey Daturas,
The Leaves,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Alton Ellis,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cowsills,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Happenings,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
K-Klass,
Youth Brigade,
AZ,
Hot Snakes,
Patti Smith,
Ultra Naté,
Man Parrish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Moon,
Minnie Riperton,
Marmalade,
Interpol,
Delta 5,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.