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 Delhi.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lou Reed to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Germs,
The Move,
CMW,
Angry Samoans,
Qualms,
Index,
Delta 5,
Soul Sonic Force,
Agitation Free,
Duran Duran,
Brand Nubian,
The Detroit Cobras,
Circle Jerks,
Brass Construction,
Mandrill,
Wings,
Scott Walker,
Black Pus,
Groovy Waters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Osbourne,
Idris Muhammad,
Pere Ubu,
48th St. Collective,
The Birthday Party,
The Smoke,
Trumans Water,
Roy Ayers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Knickerbockers,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
the Soft Cell,
A Certain Ratio,
Gong,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Red Krayola,
Nirvana,
Connie Case,
Shuggie Otis,
Steve Hackett,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
the Human League,
Q65,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Porter Ricks,
Neu!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Hoover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang Starr,
Jeff Lynne,
Pantaleimon,
Tim Buckley,
Popol Vuh,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.