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 Bahrain and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cameo to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
The Slackers,
Panda Bear,
The Human League,
The Knickerbockers,
Lungfish,
Von Mondo,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bush Tetras,
Blossom Toes,
Heaven 17,
Erasure,
Chrome,
The Searchers,
Technova,
Grauzone,
Alison Limerick,
ABC,
Theoretical Girls,
Jawbox,
John Foxx,
Accadde A,
Rufus Thomas,
Davy DMX,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harmonia,
Janne Schatter,
Isaac Hayes,
Barry Ungar,
The Move,
Robert Görl,
Masters at Work,
Hoover,
The Raincoats,
Letta Mbulu,
Malaria!,
Joy Division,
The Residents,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The New Christs,
Rakim,
Jerry's Kids,
Popol Vuh,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Adolescents,
Mark Hollis,
The Fuzztones,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultravox,
CMW,
Fatback Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Sun City Girls,
Roxy Music,
Rites of Spring,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.