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 Nepal and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Interpol to the disco 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 Anakelly. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gong,
Babytalk,
Liliput,
Black Pus,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Spandau Ballet,
Groovy Waters,
Guru Guru,
Boz Scaggs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
La Düsseldorf,
Don Cherry,
Grey Daturas,
Flash Fearless,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Clarke,
the Soft Cell,
Gichy Dan,
Jandek,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
MDC,
New York Dolls,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marc Almond,
Minnie Riperton,
Sound Behaviour,
Suburban Knight,
Black Moon,
Inner City,
The Last Poets,
The Mummies,
U.S. Maple,
Cluster,
Stiv Bators,
Bush Tetras,
Niagra,
Brick,
Fatback Band,
Delta 5,
The Residents,
The Real Kids,
Tommy Roe,
The Buckinghams,
Lucky Dragons,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Soul II Soul,
Lindisfarne,
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Junior Murvin,
Ronnie Foster,
David Bowie,
Cecil Taylor,
David McCallum,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.