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 United Kingdom and from New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Misunderstood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
Guru Guru,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jerry's Kids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Swans,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Clarke,
Toni Rubio,
The Gun Club,
The Trojans,
T.S.O.L.,
Cheater Slicks,
The Tremeloes,
Deadbeat,
Talk Talk,
Quando Quango,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crime,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Dawn Penn,
The Human League,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Althea and Donna,
Roy Ayers,
The Barracudas,
Patti Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Yazoo,
Warren Ellis,
The Leaves,
Ituana,
The Mummies,
Scientists,
Brothers Johnson,
Donald Byrd,
The Stooges,
Charles Mingus,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scrapy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Terry Callier,
Lightning Bolt,
Niagra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jeff Lynne,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Gang Dance,
B.T. Express,
Liliput,
Arab on Radar,
Howard Jones,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacob Miller,
David Axelrod,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bluetip,
The Walker Brothers,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.