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 Austria and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gabor Szabo,
Mandrill,
Model 500,
The J.B.'s,
Aural Exciters,
Interpol,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Beasts of Bourbon,
48th St. Collective,
Darondo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Todd Terry,
Sister Nancy,
Mad Mike,
Outsiders,
The Fortunes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Quadrant,
E-Dancer,
Lalann,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Gerry Rafferty,
This Heat,
Amazonics,
Visage,
Skaos,
The Gladiators,
The Stooges,
The Index,
Ronnie Foster,
Marvin Gaye,
UT,
Gang Starr,
Juan Atkins,
Josef K,
the Human League,
Gastr Del Sol,
Freddie Wadling,
Nick Fraelich,
The Busters,
Amon Düül II,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Cale,
Graham Central Station,
Roxette,
Blake Baxter,
John Coltrane,
Scan 7,
DNA,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mummies,
Sixth Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
Electric Prunes,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.