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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 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 Iggy Pop to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
The Moody Blues,
Popol Vuh,
Brick,
Peter & Gordon,
Piero Umiliani,
Glenn Branca,
The Happenings,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
L. Decosne,
Max Romeo,
Technova,
Rufus Thomas,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David Bowie,
Bill Wells,
Camberwell Now,
EPMD,
Pagans,
The Smiths,
Josef K,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
China Crisis,
Angry Samoans,
Make Up,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
Harry Pussy,
DJ Sneak,
Laurel Aitken,
Marc Almond,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Standells,
Byron Stingily,
The Human League,
Magazine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
Alison Limerick,
the Slits,
Steve Hackett,
The Neon Judgement,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
cv313,
New Order,
The Black Dice,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Danielle Patucci,
Eurythmics,
The Dirtbombs,
One Last Wish,
The Star Department,
Easy Going,
Monolake,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Young Rascals,
Darondo,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.