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 Peru and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Deadbeat to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Kinks,
Nils Olav,
The Cowsills,
Blake Baxter,
Sixth Finger,
Franke,
Marc Almond,
Black Sheep,
Gang Gang Dance,
Procol Harum,
Blancmange,
Joyce Sims,
F. McDonald,
Goldenarms,
Alison Limerick,
Marmalade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barry Ungar,
Cymande,
Trumans Water,
Unrelated Segments,
The Smoke,
Arthur Verocai,
Royal Trux,
The Saints,
Von Mondo,
Popol Vuh,
Cybotron,
Charles Mingus,
The Dirtbombs,
Los Fastidios,
The Neon Judgement,
Barbara Tucker,
Fela Kuti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alphaville,
Cheater Slicks,
Kayak,
Spandau Ballet,
Half Japanese,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Talk Talk,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stiv Bators,
Visage,
Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index,
The Fall,
Aural Exciters,
Pierre Henry,
Jerry's Kids,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Warsaw,
Schoolly D,
Liliput,
A Certain Ratio,
Kas Product,
the Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.