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 Russia and from Tehran.
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 Manila and Copenhagen.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dead Boys to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Count Five,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blackbyrds,
Delta 5,
Marine Girls,
The J.B.'s,
Cymande,
Magma,
Gang of Four,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
The Blues Magoos,
Anthony Braxton,
Metal Thangz,
Gil Scott Heron,
Guru Guru,
Talk Talk,
Harmonia,
Sam Rivers,
Saccharine Trust,
Ituana,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suburban Knight,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Vainqueur,
The United States of America,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Modern Lovers,
The Kinks,
JFA,
Q65,
H. Thieme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rekid,
Youth Brigade,
The Cowsills,
Bauhaus,
Hashim,
Jeff Lynne,
ABC,
Connie Case,
Bootsy Collins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soft Cell,
The Searchers,
Soulsonic Force,
Warren Ellis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Trojans,
Yusef Lateef,
The Knickerbockers,
LL Cool J,
Rufus Thomas,
Ronan,
Fad Gadget,
The Star Department,
The Sonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
L. Decosne,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.