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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar 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 Newcleus to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Hashim,
The Monks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-Ray Spex,
Barry Ungar,
Magma,
Al Stewart,
Nick Fraelich,
Niagra,
The Last Poets,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Victims,
Rakim,
Henry Cow,
Matthew Halsall,
T. Rex,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Half Japanese,
The Evens,
Con Funk Shun,
This Heat,
Main Source,
James White and The Blacks,
Porter Ricks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kaleidoscope,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies,
Eric Copeland,
Jawbox,
Deakin,
Excepter,
The Martian,
Das Ding,
Au Pairs,
Amazonics,
Technova,
Archie Shepp,
DJ Sneak,
Sonic Youth,
Delta 5,
Mad Mike,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ornette Coleman,
The Electric Prunes,
Minor Threat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soft Cell,
Severed Heads,
Popol Vuh,
Cybotron,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.