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 Korea North and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Trojans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Sister Nancy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cowsills,
Procol Harum,
The Skatalites,
The Blues Magoos,
MDC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Qualms,
The Star Department,
Pylon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Saccharine Trust,
Mr. Review,
Zero Boys,
Jawbox,
Leonard Cohen,
Accadde A,
The Modern Lovers,
This Heat,
Fear,
Maurizio,
Scion,
Deadbeat,
June Days,
Television,
Agent Orange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rapeman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Faust,
Jacques Brel,
X-101,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
Lucky Dragons,
Henry Cow,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fela Kuti,
Black Flag,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Birthday Party,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
X-102,
Ponytail,
James White and The Blacks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dead C,
KRS-One,
Lalann,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New Age Steppers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cal Tjader,
Black Bananas,
Soft Cell,
Television Personalities,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.