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 Kiribati and from Hong Kong.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar 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 Grauzone to the electroclash 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Tremeloes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Leaves,
Massinfluence,
Livin' Joy,
Max Romeo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scrapy,
Skaos,
Pulsallama,
Warsaw,
Neil Young,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Visage,
Ituana,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ornette Coleman,
Metal Thangz,
Kayak,
Sexual Harrassment,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minny Pops,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Eric Dolphy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ice-T,
E-Dancer,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Dave Clark Five,
MDC,
Sandy B,
Nik Kershaw,
Easy Going,
Wire,
DJ Style,
Idris Muhammad,
Sound Behaviour,
Eden Ahbez,
Carl Craig,
Peter & Gordon,
Wings,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Mars,
Ultra Naté,
The Human League,
Qualms,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Chris Corsano,
The Walker Brothers,
Fad Gadget,
Todd Terry,
T. Rex,
Niagra,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.