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 Vanuatu and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Procol Harum to the rock 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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Godley & Creme,
Fugazi,
the Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Colin Newman,
The Knickerbockers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Donald Byrd,
Harry Pussy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Golliwogs,
Fear,
Theoretical Girls,
Outsiders,
cv313,
Tommy Roe,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeff Mills,
Mr. Review,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neu!,
The Evens,
Joey Negro,
H. Thieme,
Smog,
The Fall,
Lalann,
Cluster,
Infiniti,
Sarah Menescal,
The Litter,
ABC,
L. Decosne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Enemy,
Bluetip,
The Remains,
The Music Machine,
In Retrospect,
kango's stein massive,
Maurizio,
Althea and Donna,
Roxette,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Minny Pops,
Scan 7,
Joyce Sims,
The Young Rascals,
Ponytail,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nick Fraelich,
Spandau Ballet,
Ultravox,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.