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 Madagascar and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Donald Fagen 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Quando Quango,
Black Flag,
Al Stewart,
Das Ding,
The Angels of Light,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marc Almond,
Altered Images,
Tropical Tobacco,
Simply Red,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Electric Prunes,
Intrusion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Animal Collective,
Gang Green,
Depeche Mode,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Hood,
Gong,
Jawbox,
E-Dancer,
The Real Kids,
Wolf Eyes,
Infiniti,
cv313,
ABC,
Cluster,
The American Breed,
Model 500,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fad Gadget,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Normal,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nils Olav,
Warren Ellis,
Neu!,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eve St. Jones,
Bootsy Collins,
Franke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Urselle,
The Modern Lovers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Drexciya,
JFA,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lee Hazlewood,
Althea and Donna,
KRS-One,
The Zeros,
Albert Ayler,
Excepter,
Japan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Gap Band,
The Searchers,
Lakeside,
The Mojo Men,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.