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 East Timor and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator 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 John Lydon 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Bad Manners,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultra Naté,
Swell Maps,
Faust,
Hot Snakes,
Warsaw,
Chris & Cosey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Second Layer,
Lower 48,
Roxy Music,
Al Stewart,
Gong,
Monolake,
Tres Demented,
L. Decosne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DNA,
Minny Pops,
Barbara Tucker,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Banda Bassotti,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ornette Coleman,
These Immortal Souls,
The Real Kids,
The Fortunes,
Tommy Roe,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Searchers,
Kaleidoscope,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gabor Szabo,
Thee Headcoats,
The Pop Group,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kayak,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
CMW,
The Raincoats,
DJ Style,
Magazine,
Steve Hackett,
Stereo Dub,
Fatback Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dawn Penn,
Au Pairs,
Absolute Body Control,
the Sonics,
Anthony Braxton,
David McCallum,
Neu!,
Sight & Sound,
Smog,
Cal Tjader,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Eric Dolphy,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.