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 Norway and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Warsaw to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Donny Hathaway,
Tim Buckley,
Soft Cell,
Ohio Players,
Ludus,
Peter & Gordon,
Index,
Deakin,
Lungfish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
Bill Near,
Barrington Levy,
Johnny Clarke,
Chris Corsano,
OOIOO,
Moby Grape,
AZ,
Mo-Dettes,
the Soft Cell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Moleskins,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Camouflage,
Curtis Mayfield,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
Eddi Front,
The Leaves,
Make Up,
The Trojans,
Scrapy,
Deepchord,
Lyres,
Quando Quango,
Fugazi,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moebius,
The Blues Magoos,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Kinks,
Altered Images,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Unwound,
Gabor Szabo,
World's Most,
A Certain Ratio,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swans,
Metal Thangz,
Josef K,
Minutemen,
B.T. Express,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Selecter,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.