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 Estonia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Sisters of Mercy 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barclay James Harvest,
June of 44,
The Birthday Party,
Prince Buster,
The Fugs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
DJ Style,
The Neon Judgement,
Das Ding,
Blake Baxter,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tim Buckley,
Tres Demented,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mandrill,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Howard Jones,
Erasure,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cluster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dawn Penn,
Bush Tetras,
Peter & Gordon,
Sarah Menescal,
Soft Machine,
The Litter,
Ronan,
L. Decosne,
The Move,
The Real Kids,
The Misunderstood,
The Walker Brothers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Donald Byrd,
The Victims,
Lower 48,
Jacob Miller,
The J.B.'s,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
Ponytail,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
Warren Ellis,
Make Up,
Altered Images,
James White and The Blacks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fuzztones,
The Human League,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Boz Scaggs,
Kenny Larkin,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.