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 Slovenia and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Litter to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Wings,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
In Retrospect,
Sandy B,
Warsaw,
Bobby Sherman,
JFA,
Harry Pussy,
Laurel Aitken,
Ice-T,
The Fall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric Copeland,
Tropical Tobacco,
Unrelated Segments,
Erykah Badu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
kango's stein massive,
Alice Coltrane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pere Ubu,
The Star Department,
Desert Stars,
Can,
The Trojans,
Mission of Burma,
Soulsonic Force,
Brick,
The Selecter,
The Offenders,
The Remains,
Sam Rivers,
Lindisfarne,
Deepchord,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scott Walker,
Swell Maps,
Gastr Del Sol,
Throbbing Gristle,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roxette,
Alton Ellis,
Brass Construction,
Lyres,
Leonard Cohen,
The Raincoats,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Liliput,
Michelle Simonal,
Pagans,
Idris Muhammad,
Black Pus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Vainqueur,
Maurizio,
Bad Manners,
Buzzcocks,
The Dirtbombs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ludus,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.