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 Antigua and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the rap 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
B.T. Express,
Alphaville,
Thee Headcoats,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ohio Players,
Fat Boys,
John Coltrane,
Skarface,
MDC,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Cybotron,
Barry Ungar,
Niagra,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Evens,
Sandy B,
Slave,
New Order,
The Pop Group,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun City Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dead Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
Funkadelic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Al Stewart,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Velvet Underground,
The Pretty Things,
Johnny Osbourne,
Essential Logic,
Fela Kuti,
The Offenders,
The Invisible,
Brothers Johnson,
These Immortal Souls,
The Litter,
Joe Finger,
Reagan Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Interpol,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stetsasonic,
The Standells,
Tomorrow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mission of Burma,
Black Pus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Skaos,
Anthony Braxton,
Trumans Water,
Jerry's Kids,
Quando Quango,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.