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 Yemen and from Tokyo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the punk 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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
OOIOO,
Flipper,
Gang of Four,
The Tremeloes,
Agitation Free,
The Sisters of Mercy,
This Heat,
The Beau Brummels,
Subhumans,
Eric Copeland,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camberwell Now,
Cluster,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sällskapet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hoover,
Ronnie Foster,
Donny Hathaway,
Bang On A Can,
The Shadows of Knight,
Terry Callier,
MDC,
Pole,
Saccharine Trust,
Pagans,
The Seeds,
the Normal,
Yellowson,
Fugazi,
Tomorrow,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Television Personalities,
Amazonics,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
D'Angelo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Age Steppers,
Pierre Henry,
Blossom Toes,
Scientists,
Lindisfarne,
Parry Music,
The American Breed,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bauhaus,
F. McDonald,
The Smoke,
Brass Construction,
Shuggie Otis,
Echospace,
Oblivians,
Gil Scott Heron,
Interpol,
The Count Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick May,
Eden Ahbez,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.