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 Uzbekistan and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacob Miller to the electroclash 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Toni Rubio,
The Names,
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
Pole,
Yellowson,
The Count Five,
Warren Ellis,
Can,
Tubeway Army,
The Residents,
Heaven 17,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
World's Most,
MDC,
Terrestrial Tones,
Unwound,
Scion,
The Monochrome Set,
Joe Smooth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bad Manners,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Slits,
Scrapy,
Mr. Review,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stiv Bators,
Bush Tetras,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Womack,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gabor Szabo,
Alphaville,
One Last Wish,
Sällskapet,
David Axelrod,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rosa Yemen,
Average White Band,
Pagans,
Shuggie Otis,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Leonard Cohen,
D'Angelo,
John Foxx,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DNA,
Kevin Saunderson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Basic Channel,
Pulsallama,
Roxy Music,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.