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 Belgium and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Lou Reed 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 Ossler to the dance 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Prince Buster,
Desert Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Inner City,
Wally Richardson,
Aural Exciters,
The Velvet Underground,
R.M.O.,
Kerri Chandler,
Fluxion,
Motorama,
David McCallum,
Henry Cow,
Rites of Spring,
Vladislav Delay,
Sarah Menescal,
Eric Copeland,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Normal,
Soulsonic Force,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
China Crisis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Cowsills,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rod Modell,
Excepter,
Q and Not U,
Marmalade,
Blossom Toes,
Idris Muhammad,
Swell Maps,
Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amazonics,
Rekid,
Thompson Twins,
Marvin Gaye,
Monolake,
Wings,
Urselle,
Lower 48,
Au Pairs,
Crash Course in Science,
Bush Tetras,
The Tremeloes,
Fat Boys,
the Germs,
Nick Fraelich,
Joensuu 1685,
The Neon Judgement,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Anakelly,
Albert Ayler,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.