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 Kuwait and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
John Foxx,
Mandrill,
Crispian St. Peters,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dual Sessions,
Suicide,
Minor Threat,
Infiniti,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sällskapet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Patti Smith,
Swans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Techniques,
Lower 48,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boredoms,
Byron Stingily,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pierre Henry,
Alison Limerick,
Popol Vuh,
Scientists,
Fluxion,
Bobby Byrd,
Delta 5,
Andrew Hill,
The Smoke,
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
Scott Walker,
La Düsseldorf,
Bronski Beat,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Durutti Column,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Model 500,
The Grass Roots,
Cheater Slicks,
The Angels of Light,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barclay James Harvest,
Trumans Water,
Basic Channel,
Underground Resistance,
Vladislav Delay,
Harmonia,
The Knickerbockers,
Harry Pussy,
Q and Not U,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monochrome Set,
Slave,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.