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 Monaco and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Searchers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Red Krayola,
L. Decosne,
Rod Modell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lucky Dragons,
48th St. Collective,
Public Enemy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lungfish,
Blancmange,
The J.B.'s,
Pantytec,
Erasure,
Marmalade,
The United States of America,
the Soft Cell,
New Order,
Beasts of Bourbon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stiv Bators,
Neu!,
Bobby Byrd,
The Golliwogs,
Gang Starr,
Yusef Lateef,
Godley & Creme,
Fugazi,
Reagan Youth,
Mars,
DJ Style,
Jeff Mills,
Bang On A Can,
The Moody Blues,
Country Teasers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harry Pussy,
The Music Machine,
Nas,
Negative Approach,
UT,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
Carl Craig,
Livin' Joy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Real Kids,
Erykah Badu,
CMW,
Pylon,
Half Japanese,
The Trojans,
Average White Band,
The Victims,
The Motions,
Schoolly D,
Qualms,
Wally Richardson,
Rekid,
Eve St. Jones,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.