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 Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rapeman to the techno 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Blossom Toes,
Saccharine Trust,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amon Düül II,
Visage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Quando Quango,
F. McDonald,
Magazine,
Absolute Body Control,
Sexual Harrassment,
Freddie Wadling,
Jerry's Kids,
Average White Band,
Buzzcocks,
Stetsasonic,
Rites of Spring,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joyce Sims,
Leonard Cohen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DNA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Electric Prunes,
Wasted Youth,
Qualms,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
48th St. Collective,
Mission of Burma,
Yaz,
Icehouse,
Matthew Halsall,
The Selecter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marmalade,
Warren Ellis,
The Wake,
Faust,
Donny Hathaway,
Dead Boys,
Man Parrish,
Vainqueur,
New Order,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Slits,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
Minutemen,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monks,
Nirvana,
Ronnie Foster,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Patti Smith,
Deakin,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.