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 Latvia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Interpol 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Cybotron,
Colin Newman,
John Holt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger,
Black Moon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Audionom,
T.S.O.L.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zero Boys,
The Saints,
Arcadia,
Joensuu 1685,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Toasters,
Ten City,
The Count Five,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ronan,
Masters at Work,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Gun Club,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Sonics,
The Wake,
The Stooges,
Wire,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bush Tetras,
Hashim,
Scratch Acid,
James White and The Blacks,
In Retrospect,
Glenn Branca,
Moss Icon,
Hasil Adkins,
The Motions,
U.S. Maple,
Al Stewart,
Slick Rick,
Essential Logic,
Matthew Halsall,
June Days,
DNA,
Deadbeat,
The Pop Group,
Harmonia,
Young Marble Giants,
The Pretty Things,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Minutemen,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeff Lynne,
The Walker Brothers,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.