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 Samoa and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe 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 Buzzcocks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fatback Band,
Surgeon,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Wyatt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kerri Chandler,
New Age Steppers,
Youth Brigade,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gichy Dan,
John Lydon,
Index,
Gang Starr,
Prince Buster,
Buzzcocks,
Brick,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Seeds,
Patti Smith,
Saccharine Trust,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
MDC,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Circle Jerks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Bananas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Section 25,
Franke,
Wasted Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
Wire,
Eli Mardock,
X-102,
Leonard Cohen,
Dennis Brown,
Camberwell Now,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Sneak,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
DJ Style,
Chris Corsano,
John Foxx,
The Birthday Party,
Symarip,
FM Einheit,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
a-ha,
The Wake,
The Red Krayola,
Tomorrow,
The Litter,
Bobby Byrd,
The Tremeloes,
Robert Hood,
The Evens,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.