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 Togo and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
The Modern Lovers,
Colin Newman,
Faraquet,
The Gun Club,
The Raincoats,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roger Hodgson,
Eddi Front,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Yellowson,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
Spoonie Gee,
Theoretical Girls,
Japan,
Fad Gadget,
The Moleskins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Popol Vuh,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Angry Samoans,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Motions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Groovy Waters,
Ohio Players,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Country Teasers,
The Golliwogs,
Au Pairs,
New Age Steppers,
Fela Kuti,
Los Fastidios,
Can,
Television,
Desert Stars,
the Germs,
Second Layer,
Deepchord,
Nils Olav,
Eric Copeland,
The Misunderstood,
Fluxion,
The Monochrome Set,
Eurythmics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Dawn Penn,
New York Dolls,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gories,
Ludus,
Robert Görl,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Womack,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.