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 United Kingdom and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
World's Most,
U.S. Maple,
The Monks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
Saccharine Trust,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rapeman,
Deakin,
the Association,
A Certain Ratio,
Ronnie Foster,
Can,
John Foxx,
Royal Trux,
Monks,
Dawn Penn,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June of 44,
The Litter,
Cymande,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Idris Muhammad,
The Standells,
The Busters,
Liliput,
Ultravox,
New York Dolls,
Todd Terry,
The Evens,
The Fall,
Kaleidoscope,
ABC,
Pole,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fortunes,
The Martian,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
Gang Green,
the Human League,
Simply Red,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Kinks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Gap Band,
The Pop Group,
Agitation Free,
Harry Pussy,
Outsiders,
Anthony Braxton,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang of Four,
Black Pus,
Robert Hood,
cv313,
T.S.O.L.,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cheater Slicks,
Eurythmics,
Oneida,
Pagans,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.