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 Papua New Guinea and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Bob Dylan,
The Pop Group,
Johnny Osbourne,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Erasure,
Pet Shop Boys,
David McCallum,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
OOIOO,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oblivians,
Motorama,
Half Japanese,
June Days,
Royal Trux,
Kenny Larkin,
Deepchord,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crash Course in Science,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Wyatt,
Sun Ra,
Wire,
Matthew Bourne,
Marmalade,
Nils Olav,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fortunes,
Warsaw,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mummies,
Jeff Lynne,
Wally Richardson,
Charles Mingus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Little Man,
Cybotron,
The Durutti Column,
Tim Buckley,
Scrapy,
Sound Behaviour,
The Smoke,
Silicon Teens,
Tomorrow,
The Invisible,
Thee Headcoats,
Grauzone,
Darondo,
Clear Light,
Essential Logic,
Whodini,
Slave,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Model 500,
Television Personalities,
Can,
Funkadelic,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.