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 Saudi Arabia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 B.T. Express to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '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 The Dave Clark Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Eric Copeland,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-102,
Sam Rivers,
Electric Prunes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Arthur Verocai,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Knickerbockers,
Boredoms,
Depeche Mode,
Magazine,
R.M.O.,
Eric Dolphy,
Dave Gahan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Intrusion,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Al Stewart,
Lakeside,
The Offenders,
Half Japanese,
Vainqueur,
The Tremeloes,
Sugar Minott,
The Last Poets,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Coltrane,
Todd Rundgren,
Tommy Roe,
Erasure,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cybotron,
Basic Channel,
Kenny Larkin,
Sonny Sharrock,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Graham Central Station,
Amazonics,
The Trojans,
Brothers Johnson,
Cymande,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Certain Ratio,
Moby Grape,
Marcia Griffiths,
PIL,
Jeff Lynne,
Byron Stingily,
Duran Duran,
Rosa Yemen,
Soft Machine,
The Slits,
Neu!,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.