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 Syria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 ABBA to the electroclash 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Tom Boy,
The Red Krayola,
Angry Samoans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
JFA,
Alison Limerick,
Magma,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Detroit Cobras,
Clear Light,
Marc Almond,
The Fuzztones,
John Foxx,
The United States of America,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ultravox,
Liliput,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Goldenarms,
U.S. Maple,
Sun City Girls,
Pulsallama,
The Music Machine,
Cybotron,
Lucky Dragons,
One Last Wish,
New York Dolls,
Chris & Cosey,
Saccharine Trust,
The Tremeloes,
Fatback Band,
Sixth Finger,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang of Four,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Q and Not U,
Kayak,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heaven 17,
Flipper,
Ronan,
K-Klass,
Los Fastidios,
Visage,
X-101,
Echospace,
Fat Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Modern Lovers,
Maleditus Sound,
Simply Red,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kaleidoscope,
Michelle Simonal,
Das Ding,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.