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 Egypt and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Scratch Acid to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Techniques,
Surgeon,
Wire,
Minny Pops,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
The Cowsills,
PIL,
Skaos,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nirvana,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
Pantytec,
Terry Callier,
Eric Dolphy,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies,
Newcleus,
Technova,
T.S.O.L.,
Television,
Babytalk,
Metal Thangz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crooked Eye,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
ABBA,
The Last Poets,
Blake Baxter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Niagra,
Pierre Henry,
Josef K,
Quando Quango,
Arthur Verocai,
Brothers Johnson,
Kas Product,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Khruangbin,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nik Kershaw,
Y Pants,
Royal Trux,
Negative Approach,
10cc,
The Fall,
The Saints,
Icehouse,
Marmalade,
Charles Mingus,
The Associates,
Carl Craig,
Scratch Acid,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.