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 Tuvalu and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Smiths to the disco 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Grauzone,
Tommy Roe,
The Litter,
Mars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Quando Quango,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kayak,
Arthur Verocai,
James White and The Blacks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
DNA,
The Seeds,
Arcadia,
The Skatalites,
Deakin,
Mr. Review,
The Motions,
a-ha,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jacob Miller,
Oblivians,
John Holt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Slits,
Blancmange,
Buzzcocks,
Duran Duran,
Aural Exciters,
The Electric Prunes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Patti Smith,
The Zeros,
The Sonics,
Roy Ayers,
The Remains,
Howard Jones,
Ituana,
Amon Düül,
Zero Boys,
Magma,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
Sister Nancy,
Mantronix,
Soul Sonic Force,
UT,
Harmonia,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Davy DMX,
Spoonie Gee,
The United States of America,
Lou Christie,
Brick,
Letta Mbulu,
LL Cool J,
Ronnie Foster,
Don Cherry,
Slick Rick,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.