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 Armenia and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe 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 Das Ding to the punk 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
Traffic Nightmare,
Skaos,
The J.B.'s,
the Fania All-Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Sun City Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Gabor Szabo,
Accadde A,
Albert Ayler,
Television,
Godley & Creme,
Girls At Our Best!,
Vainqueur,
Newcleus,
The Misunderstood,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
Agitation Free,
The Red Krayola,
June Days,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
David McCallum,
Outsiders,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eddi Front,
The Residents,
Gregory Isaacs,
In Retrospect,
Barry Ungar,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Flipper,
T. Rex,
Gong,
The Gories,
Ossler,
Harry Pussy,
The Dead C,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
John Cale,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Normal,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Green,
Wolf Eyes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
KRS-One,
Connie Case,
Yusef Lateef,
World's Most,
The Standells,
The American Breed,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
June of 44,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.