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 Nepal and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb 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 The Golliwogs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Josef K,
Yellowson,
Grauzone,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pagans,
X-102,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
T. Rex,
Cheater Slicks,
Robert Wyatt,
Loose Ends,
Chrome,
the Slits,
Au Pairs,
Can,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Youth Brigade,
Shoche,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pierre Henry,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
The Residents,
Mission of Burma,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marine Girls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Sound,
Boredoms,
Bauhaus,
Freddie Wadling,
Urselle,
David Bowie,
Cameo,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Whodini,
Altered Images,
Dave Gahan,
48th St. Collective,
Hot Snakes,
Pole,
Zero Boys,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Derrick May,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeff Mills,
Technova,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Barracudas,
Charles Mingus,
Dead Boys,
The Wake,
Excepter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.