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 Tajikistan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Green to the disco 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Standells,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rekid,
Byron Stingily,
Brand Nubian,
Michelle Simonal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Frankie Knuckles,
Arcadia,
Magma,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Harry Pussy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
Radio Birdman,
Black Flag,
The Moody Blues,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
The Techniques,
The Misunderstood,
Pagans,
These Immortal Souls,
The Vogues,
Tres Demented,
Delta 5,
Youth Brigade,
Theoretical Girls,
Hashim,
The Count Five,
The Victims,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grauzone,
Depeche Mode,
Young Marble Giants,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
The Names,
Big Daddy Kane,
Spandau Ballet,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
E-Dancer,
Grey Daturas,
The Gladiators,
Make Up,
F. McDonald,
the Association,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Man Eating Sloth,
X-Ray Spex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.