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 Dominica and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barrington Levy to the rap 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Ronan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
Lyres,
Skaos,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sixth Finger,
Isaac Hayes,
Hot Snakes,
Robert Hood,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dennis Brown,
Sällskapet,
Quando Quango,
John Foxx,
Kerrie Biddell,
PIL,
Rites of Spring,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Human League,
Laurel Aitken,
Al Stewart,
Magma,
10cc,
Gabor Szabo,
Lou Christie,
Alice Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
James White and The Blacks,
U.S. Maple,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Jeff Mills,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tubeway Army,
K-Klass,
The Fortunes,
The Associates,
Jacob Miller,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Depeche Mode,
The Beau Brummels,
Suicide,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Wyatt,
Johnny Clarke,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soft Machine,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Monks,
Zapp,
Toni Rubio,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.