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 Ecuador and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Fort Wilson Riot to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Fall,
Eddi Front,
a-ha,
The Dead C,
Arcadia,
Country Teasers,
the Human League,
Lightning Bolt,
Rites of Spring,
The Vogues,
Michelle Simonal,
Bizarre Inc.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
OOIOO,
Joyce Sims,
kango's stein massive,
The Gun Club,
Rekid,
Bronski Beat,
Yellowson,
Marvin Gaye,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Juan Atkins,
Graham Central Station,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Byron Stingily,
Nas,
Faust,
The Victims,
Tom Boy,
Tommy Roe,
Supertramp,
Mars,
Tim Buckley,
Sound Behaviour,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sonic Youth,
D'Angelo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Young Rascals,
The Martian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blake Baxter,
Echospace,
Eric Dolphy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grauzone,
Yazoo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
Wings,
Donny Hathaway,
Public Enemy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.