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 Tonga and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Smiths to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kas Product,
Lebanon Hanover,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deepchord,
Jesper Dahlback,
Graham Central Station,
JFA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bronski Beat,
The Motions,
Gabor Szabo,
Swell Maps,
Harmonia,
Lakeside,
Barry Ungar,
ABBA,
The Dirtbombs,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Divine Comedy,
Camouflage,
Jawbox,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Warsaw,
The Trojans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Section 25,
Ronan,
Spandau Ballet,
Don Cherry,
Arcadia,
Marc Almond,
Television Personalities,
The Slits,
Soft Cell,
Easy Going,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fela Kuti,
Yaz,
Jeru the Damaja,
PIL,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Germs,
Kayak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Holt,
Duran Duran,
Isaac Hayes,
Boredoms,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
Stiv Bators,
Cluster,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fire Engines,
Pantytec,
Faust,
Soulsonic Force,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.