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 Liechtenstein and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sight & Sound to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Khruangbin,
Eddi Front,
Marc Almond,
FM Einheit,
Quadrant,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pop Group,
Nirvana,
Technova,
The Offenders,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Amon Düül II,
Bad Manners,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eric B and Rakim,
Royal Trux,
Rhythm & Sound,
a-ha,
Mantronix,
Mo-Dettes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Make Up,
Camberwell Now,
Deadbeat,
Quando Quango,
John Cale,
Neu!,
The Fall,
The Cramps,
Radiohead,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Popol Vuh,
Gang Starr,
Kaleidoscope,
Livin' Joy,
Shoche,
Kerrie Biddell,
Magazine,
Quantec,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fela Kuti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Porter Ricks,
The Move,
Sam Rivers,
Prince Buster,
Juan Atkins,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Durutti Column,
Delta 5,
Thompson Twins,
Cecil Taylor,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Victims,
The Monks,
June of 44,
B.T. Express,
the Soft Cell,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.