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 Mauritania and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bill Near to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Lower 48,
Simply Red,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Zeros,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bob Dylan,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Grass Roots,
Albert Ayler,
Donny Hathaway,
Arthur Verocai,
KRS-One,
Model 500,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Kinks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Normal,
Icehouse,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Barbara Tucker,
Roger Hodgson,
John Lydon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
MDC,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gastr Del Sol,
Can,
Pet Shop Boys,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eric Copeland,
The Human League,
Moss Icon,
Spoonie Gee,
Procol Harum,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dead Boys,
Radiohead,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jeru the Damaja,
Flash Fearless,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Nik Kershaw,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tomorrow,
Unwound,
Massinfluence,
F. McDonald,
The New Christs,
Royal Trux,
Maleditus Sound,
Oneida,
Con Funk Shun,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.