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 Honduras and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 oboe 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 Hoover to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Guru Guru,
Sällskapet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fluxion,
Vainqueur,
Arcadia,
Warsaw,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Radiohead,
the Slits,
the Normal,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Pretty Things,
Desert Stars,
Slave,
Frankie Knuckles,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
a-ha,
Rapeman,
PIL,
Pulsallama,
The Misunderstood,
Anthony Braxton,
The Names,
Saccharine Trust,
Minor Threat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Depeche Mode,
The Slits,
John Foxx,
Minnie Riperton,
Metal Thangz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gories,
Wire,
the Bar-Kays,
Echospace,
The Sonics,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Almond,
KRS-One,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The United States of America,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Supertramp,
Donny Hathaway,
Bad Manners,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Fad Gadget,
Bill Wells,
Q and Not U,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yazoo,
Laurel Aitken,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.