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 Seychelles and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Guru Guru to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minor Threat,
Mantronix,
The American Breed,
Franke,
The Divine Comedy,
Tim Buckley,
Jawbox,
Roy Ayers,
Roxy Music,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Brick,
Mandrill,
Matthew Bourne,
Eve St. Jones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
La Düsseldorf,
Trumans Water,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Moody Blues,
Andrew Hill,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lindisfarne,
Marine Girls,
Neu!,
Vladislav Delay,
Nico,
Half Japanese,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Throbbing Gristle,
Slick Rick,
Motorama,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Amazonics,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
cv313,
Wire,
Juan Atkins,
Blake Baxter,
Charles Mingus,
Roxette,
Q and Not U,
Kevin Saunderson,
Freddie Wadling,
The Techniques,
Silicon Teens,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cluster,
PIL,
Pagans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Index,
Spandau Ballet,
Negative Approach,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.