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 Tuvalu and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Buzzcocks 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Lebanon Hanover,
Barclay James Harvest,
F. McDonald,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultra Naté,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Oblivians,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Youth Brigade,
Idris Muhammad,
Tropical Tobacco,
Radiohead,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Davy DMX,
The Monks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Don Cherry,
Michelle Simonal,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camouflage,
Henry Cow,
Trumans Water,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Associates,
Liliput,
World's Most,
Iggy Pop,
The Knickerbockers,
Unwound,
Echospace,
Hot Snakes,
Grey Daturas,
Ossler,
Bill Near,
The Barracudas,
Johnny Clarke,
The Moleskins,
Mo-Dettes,
Sun City Girls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New Age Steppers,
Girls At Our Best!,
8 Eyed Spy,
Monolake,
Howard Jones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Index,
Lou Reed,
Absolute Body Control,
Neil Young,
Godley & Creme,
Toni Rubio,
Visage,
Hoover,
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.