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 Dominican Republic and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
Angry Samoans,
Brothers Johnson,
The Smiths,
Eden Ahbez,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
Dark Day,
Anakelly,
Underground Resistance,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The New Christs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Robert Wyatt,
Rosa Yemen,
Reagan Youth,
Livin' Joy,
Cybotron,
The Doors,
The Cure,
Joe Finger,
Guru Guru,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Pus,
Outsiders,
Curtis Mayfield,
Toni Rubio,
Echospace,
This Heat,
Henry Cow,
The Last Poets,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jeff Mills,
Pylon,
Jerry's Kids,
Flash Fearless,
Camberwell Now,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sun City Girls,
Sixth Finger,
Fatback Band,
Black Flag,
Gong,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Smoke,
Amazonics,
Q and Not U,
Minor Threat,
Zero Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marc Almond,
Lalann,
10cc,
Barclay James Harvest,
New York Dolls,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.