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 Argentina and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Y Pants to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Robert Hood,
Fugazi,
Colin Newman,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Blackbyrds,
Janne Schatter,
UT,
Morten Harket,
Eric Copeland,
The Stooges,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Flag,
Interpol,
The Misunderstood,
The Saints,
Jandek,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
E-Dancer,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Hoover,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
The New Christs,
Symarip,
Can,
Eurythmics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joyce Sims,
Sight & Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fall,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Adolescents,
David Axelrod,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Audionom,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Intrusion,
The Mummies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scrapy,
La Düsseldorf,
Buzzcocks,
The Evens,
Boz Scaggs,
One Last Wish,
Blake Baxter,
The American Breed,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Oblivians,
Dave Gahan,
Motorama,
Babytalk,
Trumans Water,
DNA,
Donny Hathaway,
T. Rex,
The Busters,
Tom Boy,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.