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 Yemen and from New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Moleskins to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
The Raincoats,
Gong,
Excepter,
Soft Cell,
Malaria!,
Robert Görl,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Motions,
Whodini,
June Days,
Fluxion,
The Happenings,
Jacob Miller,
Scrapy,
Royal Trux,
One Last Wish,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
The Electric Prunes,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Unwound,
10cc,
Faust,
Los Fastidios,
Guru Guru,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marine Girls,
Fatback Band,
Mad Mike,
Siglo XX,
Letta Mbulu,
Donny Hathaway,
Soft Machine,
The Toasters,
Livin' Joy,
New York Dolls,
Lungfish,
Patti Smith,
Stetsasonic,
Scott Walker,
Reagan Youth,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lyres,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gang of Four,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Flag,
Buzzcocks,
Slick Rick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Swans,
Camouflage,
Ronan,
Section 25,
B.T. Express,
Harry Pussy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
F. McDonald,
The Moody Blues,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.