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 Tanzania and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Derrick Morgan to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Moss Icon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Star Department,
Nick Fraelich,
Crime,
Agent Orange,
Technova,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David Bowie,
Newcleus,
Banda Bassotti,
Monolake,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Japan,
Brick,
Neu!,
Wings,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gladiators,
10cc,
Livin' Joy,
The Human League,
Shoche,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pulsallama,
Ten City,
Talk Talk,
X-102,
Grauzone,
New York Dolls,
Public Enemy,
Cecil Taylor,
Robert Hood,
Procol Harum,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pantaleimon,
Supertramp,
Faust,
Smog,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aloha Tigers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Selecter,
Cluster,
Magazine,
Charles Mingus,
Ultimate Spinach,
L. Decosne,
Stereo Dub,
Derrick Morgan,
Amazonics,
Inner City,
the Soft Cell,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.