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 Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Lou Reed 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 Joe Finger to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes 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 linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Malaria!,
Al Stewart,
Blossom Toes,
Zero Boys,
Gong,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Smoke,
Kenny Larkin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Human League,
Average White Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Hardrive,
The Move,
The Golliwogs,
Bronski Beat,
Johnny Osbourne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eli Mardock,
Angry Samoans,
Jimmy McGriff,
New York Dolls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Agitation Free,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oneida,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lakeside,
Bob Dylan,
Livin' Joy,
Warren Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erasure,
MDC,
The Cramps,
Second Layer,
Alphaville,
The Monochrome Set,
ABC,
Bill Near,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Pantytec,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter and Kerry,
Sarah Menescal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Echospace,
Little Man,
Mark Hollis,
T. Rex,
Basic Channel,
Todd Rundgren,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Connie Case,
The Walker Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.