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 Korea North and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Misunderstood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Scan 7,
Minny Pops,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Index,
Radio Birdman,
Aural Exciters,
Au Pairs,
Echospace,
Unrelated Segments,
Terry Callier,
Second Layer,
Ronan,
Thompson Twins,
Monks,
Zapp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fat Boys,
AZ,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radiohead,
The Skatalites,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hardrive,
Gichy Dan,
Bang On A Can,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Görl,
Pere Ubu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faust,
The Motions,
Yellowson,
Spandau Ballet,
Chris Corsano,
Ludus,
Dennis Brown,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fear,
Agitation Free,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Patti Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Gang of Four,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joe Smooth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Aaron Thompson,
The Cure,
John Lydon,
Hashim,
Nico,
Sugar Minott,
Neil Young,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.