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 Syria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the electroclash 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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?
Zapp,
Pere Ubu,
Outsiders,
John Holt,
The Tremeloes,
Lower 48,
Soul II Soul,
Au Pairs,
Archie Shepp,
Marc Almond,
Loose Ends,
Youth Brigade,
Maleditus Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Hot Snakes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sun City Girls,
Deadbeat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Erykah Badu,
Thompson Twins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
X-101,
The Velvet Underground,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Roxette,
Electric Prunes,
Alphaville,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ohio Players,
Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
Pulsallama,
Fela Kuti,
Bootsy Collins,
China Crisis,
Slick Rick,
James White and The Blacks,
Kaleidoscope,
Rakim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Can,
Andrew Hill,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Funkadelic,
The Mojo Men,
AZ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Skriet,
Shoche,
Jacques Brel,
Judy Mowatt,
Yazoo,
The Moleskins,
The Invisible,
Ronan,
Surgeon,
Supertramp,
Crime,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.