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 Iraq and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Derrick Morgan to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Red Krayola,
Basic Channel,
Sex Pistols,
Thee Headcoats,
Dorothy Ashby,
Babytalk,
Altered Images,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flipper,
Kayak,
Gong,
Black Pus,
Scrapy,
Mission of Burma,
Moss Icon,
The Remains,
New Order,
Letta Mbulu,
Fugazi,
Ken Boothe,
Los Fastidios,
Can,
In Retrospect,
Throbbing Gristle,
Todd Terry,
Shoche,
Barclay James Harvest,
Qualms,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wolf Eyes,
Chris & Cosey,
The Vogues,
Barbara Tucker,
Swell Maps,
Main Source,
AZ,
Intrusion,
Tres Demented,
Patti Smith,
Bootsy Collins,
Khruangbin,
Terry Callier,
The Fuzztones,
Electric Prunes,
Interpol,
Crooked Eye,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Grauzone,
Bob Dylan,
OOIOO,
Marc Almond,
Monks,
Don Cherry,
Model 500,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Livin' Joy,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.