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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ten City to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Shoche,
Cybotron,
Ohio Players,
David Bowie,
Dawn Penn,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Görl,
Chrome,
New Order,
Althea and Donna,
Metal Thangz,
Donny Hathaway,
Cameo,
The Velvet Underground,
Lower 48,
Gerry Rafferty,
Royal Trux,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Moss Icon,
The Toasters,
Ituana,
Siglo XX,
One Last Wish,
Ornette Coleman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skarface,
T.S.O.L.,
The Modern Lovers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Iggy Pop,
The Stooges,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jeff Lynne,
Jerry's Kids,
Pere Ubu,
Black Moon,
Matthew Halsall,
Roy Ayers,
Roxette,
This Heat,
Ponytail,
Severed Heads,
Nirvana,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Prunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Black Bananas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Knickerbockers,
Sex Pistols,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sister Nancy,
The Smiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Birthday Party,
The Neon Judgement,
Von Mondo,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.