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 Kyrgyzstan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Second Layer to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Nas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ice-T,
Slick Rick,
Harmonia,
Desert Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Brand Nubian,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kenny Larkin,
The Monks,
The Gun Club,
Trumans Water,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Iggy Pop,
Aural Exciters,
The United States of America,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mars,
Tom Boy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Skatalites,
The Selecter,
Nils Olav,
T. Rex,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
10cc,
Wire,
Donny Hathaway,
Laurel Aitken,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dual Sessions,
UT,
The Gap Band,
The Cure,
Half Japanese,
Flamin' Groovies,
Metal Thangz,
Skaos,
Jeff Lynne,
Ornette Coleman,
Urselle,
China Crisis,
Television,
Erasure,
The Litter,
The Fugs,
Scrapy,
the Human League,
Albert Ayler,
Arab on Radar,
Dead Boys,
Morten Harket,
The Standells,
Adolescents,
MC5,
The Saints,
ABC,
Cymande,
Kerrie Biddell,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.