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 Ukraine and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 A Certain Ratio to the rap 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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Crooked Eye,
Don Cherry,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magma,
Henry Cow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Halsall,
the Soft Cell,
Ice-T,
The Neon Judgement,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Amazonics,
Roxette,
Boz Scaggs,
Technova,
DNA,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Iggy Pop,
Howard Jones,
Chris & Cosey,
Gerry Rafferty,
Prince Buster,
Harpers Bizarre,
T. Rex,
The Move,
The Black Dice,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
10cc,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Trumans Water,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Popol Vuh,
Ponytail,
Rosa Yemen,
The Tremeloes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bush Tetras,
Funky Four + One,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Slits,
Bad Manners,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Christie,
John Coltrane,
Johnny Osbourne,
Quando Quango,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Black Bananas,
Skarface,
ABC,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Boredoms,
Hot Snakes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.