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 Singapore and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Beau Brummels to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Misunderstood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Smooth,
The Angels of Light,
Hot Snakes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Supertramp,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun City Girls,
Mars,
Technova,
U.S. Maple,
Tropical Tobacco,
Warsaw,
Porter Ricks,
Fugazi,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Blackbyrds,
Connie Case,
Heaven 17,
Pere Ubu,
Godley & Creme,
Scott Walker,
Amon Düül,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Star Department,
Unrelated Segments,
Theoretical Girls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Peter & Gordon,
Anakelly,
Jeff Lynne,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
Maleditus Sound,
The American Breed,
Crime,
Rekid,
A Certain Ratio,
Josef K,
Vainqueur,
Howard Jones,
DJ Style,
Tears for Fears,
Chrome,
Nico,
Goldenarms,
The Gun Club,
Grey Daturas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tim Buckley,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Loose Ends,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.