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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Human League to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Y Pants,
The Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gabor Szabo,
Pylon,
Eric Copeland,
Circle Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Fania All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Womack,
Dave Gahan,
Marmalade,
Minnie Riperton,
Massinfluence,
Von Mondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Young Marble Giants,
Niagra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Reuben Wilson,
Aural Exciters,
Desert Stars,
Thompson Twins,
Robert Wyatt,
Technova,
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
UT,
Audionom,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Monks,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
Sexual Harrassment,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
The Cure,
The Evens,
Connie Case,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radiopuhelimet,
Quadrant,
Mars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barrington Levy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Echospace,
Scrapy,
X-Ray Spex,
Mission of Burma,
Minor Threat,
Henry Cow,
Subhumans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Hoover,
Visage,
Rod Modell,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.