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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bad Manners to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All New Order 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 disco 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warren Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grauzone,
Cal Tjader,
Monolake,
The Vogues,
Hasil Adkins,
Country Teasers,
Graham Central Station,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Searchers,
B.T. Express,
Slave,
Jacques Brel,
Amazonics,
kango's stein massive,
Suburban Knight,
Animal Collective,
Yellowson,
Average White Band,
X-101,
Minor Threat,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rosa Yemen,
Duran Duran,
Skarface,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gang Green,
The Raincoats,
Guru Guru,
Con Funk Shun,
The Real Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dennis Brown,
Yaz,
the Human League,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sandy B,
The Blues Magoos,
The Neon Judgement,
Scrapy,
Pole,
Young Marble Giants,
Accadde A,
Simply Red,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Wake,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cecil Taylor,
Roxette,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Knickerbockers,
Dead Boys,
Clear Light,
Interpol,
The Angels of Light,
Agent Orange,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Vainqueur,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.