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 Tanzania and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro 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 Lee Hazlewood to the disco 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Offenders,
Bob Dylan,
Eddi Front,
Schoolly D,
The Zeros,
China Crisis,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Audionom,
Dual Sessions,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Smog,
Sight & Sound,
Chris & Cosey,
The Angels of Light,
Neu!,
Archie Shepp,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crooked Eye,
Bauhaus,
Los Fastidios,
Warsaw,
Mad Mike,
Aural Exciters,
Erykah Badu,
EPMD,
Stiv Bators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Can,
Parry Music,
Alison Limerick,
The Mojo Men,
Erasure,
Rapeman,
Nick Fraelich,
Easy Going,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Sheep,
Jacob Miller,
Slave,
AZ,
Nico,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Freddie Wadling,
Colin Newman,
Radio Birdman,
Ohio Players,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Soft Cell,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
H. Thieme,
Y Pants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fela Kuti,
Accadde A,
Porter Ricks,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.