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 United Kingdom and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Holger Czukay 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 Pet Shop Boys to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Andrew Hill,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Count Five,
Mars,
Barrington Levy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Judy Mowatt,
John Coltrane,
Mad Mike,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Anthony Braxton,
Bauhaus,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Sherman,
The J.B.'s,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pantaleimon,
Eurythmics,
Lower 48,
Cameo,
Scan 7,
Reagan Youth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roxette,
Heaven 17,
Pantytec,
Neu!,
The Trojans,
Kerrie Biddell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Duran Duran,
Lou Christie,
The Move,
Trumans Water,
Ultra Naté,
Rosa Yemen,
This Heat,
Cymande,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scratch Acid,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Walker Brothers,
Oblivians,
Magma,
Sun Ra,
Slave,
The Litter,
The Sound,
The Names,
Wings,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fat Boys,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Inner City,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barbara Tucker,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.