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 Venezuela and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 oboe 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 Gerry Rafferty to the rap 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Ludus,
Inner City,
the Soft Cell,
Dawn Penn,
Brothers Johnson,
Neil Young,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fugazi,
Scrapy,
Yaz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Fuzztones,
Goldenarms,
China Crisis,
T.S.O.L.,
The Sound,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cowsills,
Heaven 17,
Black Moon,
Lungfish,
Piero Umiliani,
Bob Dylan,
Fluxion,
Sex Pistols,
Wire,
June Days,
The Victims,
John Coltrane,
Main Source,
Davy DMX,
The Mummies,
Marc Almond,
Infiniti,
Ultra Naté,
Bad Manners,
Bronski Beat,
A Certain Ratio,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Near,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
Amon Düül II,
Essential Logic,
Wings,
the Association,
June of 44,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funkadelic,
Mark Hollis,
Shuggie Otis,
The Walker Brothers,
Bill Wells,
Surgeon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Supertramp,
Aloha Tigers,
Schoolly D,
Ossler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tommy Roe,
Masters at Work,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.