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 Gambia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Man Parrish to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Radio Birdman,
Judy Mowatt,
The Victims,
Second Layer,
Bill Wells,
Eddi Front,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sandy B,
Wire,
Rites of Spring,
the Association,
Robert Hood,
Kool Moe Dee,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Donald Byrd,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Don Cherry,
Traffic Nightmare,
The United States of America,
Scientists,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hashim,
Accadde A,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Pop Group,
These Immortal Souls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eve St. Jones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Television,
Neu!,
Ultravox,
Jeff Mills,
James White and The Blacks,
Angry Samoans,
Rotary Connection,
Youth Brigade,
Bootsy Collins,
Ossler,
Howard Jones,
Audionom,
The Five Americans,
Aswad,
The Zeros,
The Dead C,
Half Japanese,
Ten City,
The Stooges,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
A Certain Ratio,
Sixth Finger,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Move,
Motorama,
Guru Guru,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hasil Adkins,
Lindisfarne,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.