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 Andorra and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
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 808 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 Radio Birdman to the grunge 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad 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?
Ronan,
Simply Red,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soul II Soul,
Make Up,
Janne Schatter,
The Gladiators,
Ituana,
The Offenders,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rod Modell,
The Sonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Cure,
The Saints,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Los Fastidios,
JFA,
Warsaw,
K-Klass,
Mars,
The United States of America,
Godley & Creme,
These Immortal Souls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television Personalities,
The Leaves,
Radio Birdman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Matthew Halsall,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radiohead,
The Victims,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brand Nubian,
X-102,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joensuu 1685,
Half Japanese,
Ultravox,
Black Pus,
Jacob Miller,
The Misunderstood,
The Walker Brothers,
The Selecter,
FM Einheit,
Liliput,
Erasure,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Outsiders,
Ornette Coleman,
Pet Shop Boys,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Matthew Bourne,
Q and Not U,
Reagan Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Coltrane,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.