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 St Lucia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum 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 Hasil Adkins to the crunk 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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Rakim,
Mandrill,
Thee Headcoats,
Marc Almond,
Gichy Dan,
the Slits,
Matthew Bourne,
Tears for Fears,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Names,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
World's Most,
The Music Machine,
Jacob Miller,
Leonard Cohen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shuggie Otis,
Susan Cadogan,
Sun City Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Brand Nubian,
The Misunderstood,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultravox,
Sister Nancy,
Vladislav Delay,
Livin' Joy,
Godley & Creme,
The Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs,
The Raincoats,
Boredoms,
Ultimate Spinach,
Don Cherry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Yazoo,
Erasure,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Popol Vuh,
Chris Corsano,
Mo-Dettes,
Funky Four + One,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Neil Young,
Roger Hodgson,
Sällskapet,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Monolake,
Crooked Eye,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Morten Harket,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.