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 Serbia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Vladislav Delay to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lakeside,
E-Dancer,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lindisfarne,
New Order,
Spoonie Gee,
John Lydon,
Bootsy Collins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Saints,
K-Klass,
The Motions,
Index,
Silicon Teens,
Porter Ricks,
The Dirtbombs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Model 500,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gang Green,
Byron Stingily,
Cheater Slicks,
The Grass Roots,
In Retrospect,
The Knickerbockers,
Arab on Radar,
Toni Rubio,
Bush Tetras,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Josef K,
The Red Krayola,
Jimmy McGriff,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mission of Burma,
Jacob Miller,
Amon Düül II,
Fela Kuti,
Crispian St. Peters,
Symarip,
Warsaw,
Malaria!,
Ultra Naté,
Yaz,
The Trojans,
Deakin,
The Remains,
Donny Hathaway,
Wally Richardson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Walker Brothers,
Gichy Dan,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gong,
Scratch Acid,
Hashim,
Aaron Thompson,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.