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 Sri Lanka and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Radio Birdman to the techno 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grauzone,
Barry Ungar,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Malaria!,
Charles Mingus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DNA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Patti Smith,
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Zero Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
48th St. Collective,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Unwound,
Crispian St. Peters,
T. Rex,
Kerri Chandler,
Flipper,
Pierre Henry,
This Heat,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Silicon Teens,
Spandau Ballet,
The Techniques,
Skarface,
Drexciya,
Siglo XX,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Tres Demented,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
E-Dancer,
The Pretty Things,
Susan Cadogan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Gories,
Bauhaus,
Wasted Youth,
Carl Craig,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
Morten Harket,
Amazonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Iggy Pop,
Alphaville,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bush Tetras,
Swans,
Underground Resistance,
The Cramps,
Steve Hackett,
Jandek,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.