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 Belarus and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Funky Four + One to the dance 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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Cure,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Anakelly,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
KRS-One,
Sixth Finger,
Panda Bear,
Lower 48,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sun Ra,
John Cale,
Lightning Bolt,
Susan Cadogan,
The United States of America,
Sonic Youth,
Robert Wyatt,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minor Threat,
Urselle,
Icehouse,
The Five Americans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Whodini,
Peter and Kerry,
Ken Boothe,
Darondo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tubeway Army,
The Black Dice,
10cc,
Jeff Mills,
Livin' Joy,
Average White Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Pus,
Roxette,
The Sound,
PIL,
Massinfluence,
Grey Daturas,
Chrome,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound,
Sugar Minott,
Banda Bassotti,
Neu!,
The Martian,
The Dead C,
The Slackers,
Second Layer,
Alton Ellis,
The Mojo Men,
Bob Dylan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Johnny Clarke,
Mission of Burma,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.