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 Papua New Guinea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 The Durutti Column to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Eli Mardock,
Lightning Bolt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Japan,
Black Bananas,
Eve St. Jones,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fire Engines,
Sixth Finger,
Unrelated Segments,
Amon Düül,
Jeru the Damaja,
F. McDonald,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sparks,
Rosa Yemen,
the Association,
Goldenarms,
Ossler,
Aloha Tigers,
Colin Newman,
Newcleus,
Chrome,
Roxette,
Prince Buster,
Barrington Levy,
Absolute Body Control,
Bill Wells,
Reuben Wilson,
The Selecter,
The Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Soft Machine,
DNA,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Althea and Donna,
Slick Rick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Happenings,
Youth Brigade,
Lindisfarne,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sällskapet,
Scrapy,
Mars,
The Black Dice,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Howard Jones,
Malaria!,
The Busters,
Barclay James Harvest,
10cc,
The Count Five,
Bang On A Can,
The Associates,
Hot Snakes,
Chris & Cosey,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.