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 Algeria and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Television Personalities to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Bananas,
Derrick May,
Barry Ungar,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Kinks,
The Five Americans,
Sight & Sound,
Duran Duran,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
D'Angelo,
Arab on Radar,
Bizarre Inc.,
Faraquet,
Kas Product,
The Saints,
Maleditus Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nas,
Adolescents,
Lakeside,
Kaleidoscope,
Todd Rundgren,
Newcleus,
Todd Terry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Yusef Lateef,
Moss Icon,
Smog,
R.M.O.,
Schoolly D,
The Black Dice,
Yaz,
Y Pants,
The Move,
Andrew Hill,
The Trojans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rufus Thomas,
Reuben Wilson,
Warren Ellis,
Pagans,
Steve Hackett,
Symarip,
Crash Course in Science,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camouflage,
Faust,
Eve St. Jones,
KRS-One,
The Associates,
Skriet,
Brand Nubian,
Peter and Kerry,
Tears for Fears,
Erasure,
The Slackers,
Lower 48,
Cheater Slicks,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.