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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 E-Dancer to the electroclash 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
The Star Department,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mr. Review,
Sandy B,
Adolescents,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Little Man,
Iggy Pop,
Tom Boy,
Max Romeo,
Lucky Dragons,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bob Dylan,
Y Pants,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Ornette Coleman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Teasers,
Junior Murvin,
Suicide,
Talk Talk,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sixth Finger,
Basic Channel,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gun Club,
The Cure,
T. Rex,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Alton Ellis,
Swans,
The Zeros,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lungfish,
B.T. Express,
Television Personalities,
The New Christs,
The Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cramps,
Glenn Branca,
Masters at Work,
Albert Ayler,
Subhumans,
The Human League,
Symarip,
Wolf Eyes,
Davy DMX,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.