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 Bolivia and from London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Frankie Knuckles to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Offenders,
B.T. Express,
The Electric Prunes,
MC5,
Morten Harket,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lightning Bolt,
Max Romeo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Young Rascals,
John Holt,
Amon Düül,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Motorama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Inner City,
Subhumans,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Derrick Morgan,
David Bowie,
The Evens,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eli Mardock,
The Music Machine,
Rufus Thomas,
Maurizio,
Fluxion,
Cheater Slicks,
The Smoke,
Albert Ayler,
Oneida,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-102,
Archie Shepp,
Roy Ayers,
Ronan,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Hood,
Marvin Gaye,
Suicide,
Laurel Aitken,
Electric Light Orchestra,
X-Ray Spex,
Cameo,
Joensuu 1685,
Scan 7,
Minutemen,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zapp,
Bob Dylan,
Loose Ends,
The Cure,
Sound Behaviour,
Pagans,
Newcleus,
Negative Approach,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.