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 Kosovo and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Unrelated Segments,
Sällskapet,
Lyres,
Freddie Wadling,
Stiv Bators,
Pere Ubu,
Quando Quango,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispian St. Peters,
Magazine,
Shuggie Otis,
Nik Kershaw,
the Sonics,
Ralphi Rosario,
Intrusion,
The Fire Engines,
The Seeds,
Kaleidoscope,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül II,
Prince Buster,
Crispy Ambulance,
48th St. Collective,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Circle Jerks,
The Invisible,
Anakelly,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Misunderstood,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
The Move,
Kevin Saunderson,
Maleditus Sound,
Kas Product,
John Holt,
The Real Kids,
Hashim,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
Archie Shepp,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Max Romeo,
Aswad,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Saints,
Mission of Burma,
Gang of Four,
MDC,
The Knickerbockers,
Clear Light,
The Birthday Party,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mr. Review,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fat Boys,
Little Man,
Slick Rick,
Parry Music,
Al Stewart,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.