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 Russia and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer 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 Stetsasonic to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Neu!,
Alphaville,
Lucky Dragons,
Metal Thangz,
Skriet,
Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Pole,
Faust,
Altered Images,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Moebius,
Young Marble Giants,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Lou Reed,
DNA,
Symarip,
Minny Pops,
Chris & Cosey,
The Motions,
Eve St. Jones,
David Axelrod,
Mandrill,
Liliput,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Patti Smith,
Blake Baxter,
Grey Daturas,
Silicon Teens,
The Golliwogs,
Pantytec,
Davy DMX,
Bill Wells,
the Normal,
Funkadelic,
Can,
Brand Nubian,
Hoover,
Ohio Players,
Roxette,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Vogues,
Wally Richardson,
Surgeon,
the Bar-Kays,
the Human League,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Reagan Youth,
The Red Krayola,
Minutemen,
Laurel Aitken,
Yazoo,
Moby Grape,
The Grass Roots,
Banda Bassotti,
Tom Boy,
OOIOO,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.