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 United States and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Traffic Nightmare to the jazz 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
The Smiths,
the Sonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Panda Bear,
John Coltrane,
Das Ding,
Marvin Gaye,
Hoover,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Johnny Clarke,
Fear,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ken Boothe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Brick,
Slick Rick,
Ossler,
The Busters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Knickerbockers,
Ronan,
KRS-One,
Barrington Levy,
Marine Girls,
Unrelated Segments,
The Sound,
The Human League,
Nils Olav,
Au Pairs,
the Slits,
Sexual Harrassment,
Swans,
The Mummies,
Prince Buster,
Hot Snakes,
Moss Icon,
Gang of Four,
Guru Guru,
Tommy Roe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Amon Düül II,
Lungfish,
The Five Americans,
Jerry's Kids,
Altered Images,
Cluster,
Black Moon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Brothers Johnson,
Kaleidoscope,
JFA,
F. McDonald,
Isaac Hayes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Index,
Livin' Joy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eli Mardock,
The Smoke,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.