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 Brunei and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum 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 Yaz to the funk 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
June of 44,
Rod Modell,
the Normal,
Ronan,
Urselle,
Letta Mbulu,
Brand Nubian,
The Sisters of Mercy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tears for Fears,
Monolake,
The Flesh Eaters,
Graham Central Station,
Faust,
Tres Demented,
The Buckinghams,
Peter & Gordon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jandek,
Mark Hollis,
the Slits,
Howard Jones,
Gabor Szabo,
Blancmange,
Yazoo,
La Düsseldorf,
Nas,
Barrington Levy,
the Soft Cell,
Todd Terry,
Sixth Finger,
The Gladiators,
Harpers Bizarre,
Warsaw,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry's Kids,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bang On A Can,
Robert Wyatt,
The Zeros,
Soft Cell,
DNA,
Arcadia,
48th St. Collective,
Jeff Lynne,
Matthew Bourne,
The Saints,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Niagra,
Glenn Branca,
Trumans Water,
K-Klass,
Outsiders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tomorrow,
Bootsy Collins,
Alice Coltrane,
China Crisis,
The Blackbyrds,
Electric Prunes,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.