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 Senegal and from Spokane.
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 Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Star Department,
Little Man,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rites of Spring,
The Motions,
Hot Snakes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oneida,
Can,
Television Personalities,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Leonard Cohen,
Pole,
Bill Wells,
Barry Ungar,
Andrew Hill,
The Real Kids,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Leaves,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Searchers,
Whodini,
Peter & Gordon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
U.S. Maple,
The Victims,
Ituana,
New Order,
Fat Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DNA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aural Exciters,
Brothers Johnson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wasted Youth,
Boredoms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rapeman,
Funkadelic,
Nas,
T.S.O.L.,
Danielle Patucci,
David Axelrod,
Marshall Jefferson,
Matthew Bourne,
Talk Talk,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
Scientists,
Ludus,
the Association,
Deadbeat,
Vladislav Delay,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.