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 Mauritius and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultravox to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Camouflage,
Barry Ungar,
Eurythmics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alison Limerick,
New York Dolls,
Unwound,
Suburban Knight,
ABC,
Soft Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Schoolly D,
Lalo Schifrin,
Blossom Toes,
The Leaves,
Darondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Lower 48,
Grauzone,
Infiniti,
The Five Americans,
Interpol,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Public Enemy,
Deepchord,
LL Cool J,
This Heat,
Albert Ayler,
Goldenarms,
Public Image Ltd.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Remains,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Swans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Sherman,
X-101,
Isaac Hayes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric Dolphy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Carl Craig,
Second Layer,
Mars,
Angry Samoans,
Average White Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harry Pussy,
Television,
Stockholm Monsters,
Whodini,
H. Thieme,
Chrome,
D'Angelo,
Clear Light,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eddi Front,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.