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 Switzerland and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Bobby Womack to the electroclash 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Chris & Cosey,
Japan,
Neil Young,
Desert Stars,
Frankie Knuckles,
Index,
The Fuzztones,
Ultimate Spinach,
Amon Düül,
Kool Moe Dee,
Chris Corsano,
Harry Pussy,
The Offenders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rekid,
David Bowie,
The Gun Club,
The Doors,
the Bar-Kays,
Piero Umiliani,
Camouflage,
Peter and Kerry,
Althea and Donna,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Walker Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Durutti Column,
The Remains,
Sound Behaviour,
Accadde A,
Jimmy McGriff,
H. Thieme,
Kayak,
Erykah Badu,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tomorrow,
Niagra,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
Scan 7,
The Last Poets,
Darondo,
Goldenarms,
Erasure,
Leonard Cohen,
FM Einheit,
Bush Tetras,
Trumans Water,
Al Stewart,
Loose Ends,
The Gap Band,
Tim Buckley,
Glenn Branca,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Roger Hodgson,
Steve Hackett,
The Detroit Cobras,
Anthony Braxton,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.