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 Kenya and from Shanghai.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Human League to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Michelle Simonal,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Bananas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blake Baxter,
The Velvet Underground,
Massinfluence,
Bad Manners,
Thee Headcoats,
These Immortal Souls,
Fad Gadget,
New York Dolls,
Adolescents,
Rufus Thomas,
John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
Barry Ungar,
Ponytail,
Nas,
DJ Sneak,
Todd Terry,
Average White Band,
China Crisis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cheater Slicks,
Boredoms,
X-101,
Rites of Spring,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jandek,
Tomorrow,
Robert Görl,
The Red Krayola,
Theoretical Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Andrew Hill,
June of 44,
Sixth Finger,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bauhaus,
Henry Cow,
Mandrill,
Inner City,
Fatback Band,
ABBA,
Susan Cadogan,
The Wake,
Scratch Acid,
Hashim,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Sherman,
The J.B.'s,
Stetsasonic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yaz,
The Moody Blues,
Scientists,
Ossler,
The Move,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.