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 Panama and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 LL Cool J to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
The Durutti Column,
Howard Jones,
Henry Cow,
Soulsonic Force,
This Heat,
Rites of Spring,
The Tremeloes,
Judy Mowatt,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Foxx,
Loose Ends,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Buzzcocks,
The Residents,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Boredoms,
Wire,
The Pop Group,
Ludus,
The Knickerbockers,
Minny Pops,
Al Stewart,
The Standells,
Young Marble Giants,
Alphaville,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Y Pants,
Monks,
Mars,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Piero Umiliani,
Little Man,
PIL,
New Order,
The Beau Brummels,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Busters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brick,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Barry Ungar,
Q65,
Boz Scaggs,
Mad Mike,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Wyatt,
R.M.O.,
Nils Olav,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kenny Larkin,
The Black Dice,
Outsiders,
kango's stein massive,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.