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 Palau and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 United States of America to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ten City,
kango's stein massive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tim Buckley,
Arthur Verocai,
Sarah Menescal,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skriet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gun Club,
Sun City Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Litter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
June Days,
Rod Modell,
The Tremeloes,
Mission of Burma,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Malaria!,
The Cure,
Con Funk Shun,
PIL,
Yazoo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
ABBA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Public Enemy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Boredoms,
Davy DMX,
Soft Cell,
Kaleidoscope,
Country Teasers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eddi Front,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cybotron,
Wire,
Al Stewart,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Y Pants,
Negative Approach,
Wings,
Eden Ahbez,
Tears for Fears,
Dennis Brown,
the Human League,
DNA,
June of 44,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.