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 Algeria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator 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 The Raincoats 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q and Not U record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Gun Club,
Wire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Byron Stingily,
Nirvana,
Crispian St. Peters,
Camberwell Now,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lalo Schifrin,
Animal Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gong,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
Motorama,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ronan,
Zero Boys,
Boogie Down Productions,
Funkadelic,
Severed Heads,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Judy Mowatt,
Crime,
Godley & Creme,
Negative Approach,
Archie Shepp,
Robert Görl,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Patti Smith,
Quantec,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Groovy Waters,
Joe Smooth,
The Star Department,
Derrick Morgan,
the Soft Cell,
Spandau Ballet,
The Pretty Things,
Toni Rubio,
Alphaville,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dual Sessions,
Black Sheep,
Matthew Halsall,
X-102,
New Order,
The Selecter,
Heaven 17,
Jeru the Damaja,
PIL,
The Doors,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.