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 Marshall Islands 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mantronix to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Pole,
This Heat,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Adolescents,
H. Thieme,
Pierre Henry,
Roxy Music,
Cecil Taylor,
Hardrive,
The Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
JFA,
kango's stein massive,
Glenn Branca,
Pylon,
Wire,
ABBA,
Jacques Brel,
Marvin Gaye,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Gong,
Jeff Mills,
Darondo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nirvana,
The Litter,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mr. Review,
Colin Newman,
These Immortal Souls,
Tres Demented,
Sight & Sound,
PIL,
Ludus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Wake,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lungfish,
The Smiths,
Sparks,
Funkadelic,
The Names,
Kurtis Blow,
Fugazi,
Porter Ricks,
The Move,
The Durutti Column,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Camberwell Now,
Davy DMX,
Aural Exciters,
Au Pairs,
The Cure,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Bar-Kays,
Rakim,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.