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 Macedonia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bush Tetras 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
The Happenings,
Wire,
a-ha,
Barry Ungar,
Von Mondo,
Roxette,
Todd Terry,
Danielle Patucci,
The American Breed,
Dark Day,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bauhaus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Buckinghams,
Outsiders,
Scion,
The Birthday Party,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Motorama,
The Smoke,
Joe Smooth,
The Slackers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Man Eating Sloth,
Slick Rick,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pylon,
Shoche,
Archie Shepp,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Gladiators,
Schoolly D,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vladislav Delay,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
U.S. Maple,
Cymande,
Soul II Soul,
Nirvana,
The Monks,
Grandmaster Flash,
EPMD,
Skarface,
Siglo XX,
Man Parrish,
Rakim,
Model 500,
Crash Course in Science,
X-Ray Spex,
Con Funk Shun,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minny Pops,
Suicide,
Sällskapet,
June of 44,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deakin,
Pulsallama,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.