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 Vietnam and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Howard Jones,
James White and The Blacks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Motorama,
PIL,
Silicon Teens,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Fire Engines,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soul II Soul,
Icehouse,
Fat Boys,
Drexciya,
The Music Machine,
Dead Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minny Pops,
Arthur Verocai,
These Immortal Souls,
a-ha,
Guru Guru,
The Gun Club,
Mr. Review,
Blake Baxter,
The Blackbyrds,
Eddi Front,
Mad Mike,
Scratch Acid,
Kurtis Blow,
Rapeman,
Susan Cadogan,
Joe Finger,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Modern Lovers,
Angry Samoans,
Metal Thangz,
Malaria!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Parry Music,
The Dead C,
Gregory Isaacs,
Charles Mingus,
The Red Krayola,
A Certain Ratio,
The Pop Group,
Black Bananas,
Dual Sessions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Davy DMX,
Depeche Mode,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soulsonic Force,
Von Mondo,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.