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 Tajikistan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Bad Manners to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Ituana,
The Residents,
Byron Stingily,
Can,
Mad Mike,
Sarah Menescal,
Eli Mardock,
Hasil Adkins,
Wire,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sam Rivers,
Alison Limerick,
The Angels of Light,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ohio Players,
Hot Snakes,
Fat Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bronski Beat,
Zero Boys,
cv313,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Drexciya,
Lower 48,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minor Threat,
The J.B.'s,
Avey Tare,
Fugazi,
Johnny Osbourne,
Radio Birdman,
Sun City Girls,
The Evens,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ronan,
Pantytec,
Erasure,
Johnny Clarke,
Dead Boys,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ralphi Rosario,
Freddie Wadling,
Tears for Fears,
Nik Kershaw,
Mantronix,
Quantec,
The Saints,
The Move,
Supertramp,
Clear Light,
Wally Richardson,
Section 25,
Ornette Coleman,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.