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 Burkina and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Tears for Fears to the grunge 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Toni Rubio,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Y Pants,
The Slackers,
Motorama,
Crime,
Jeff Mills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang of Four,
The Misunderstood,
John Holt,
Brick,
Piero Umiliani,
Crash Course in Science,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Lynne,
Accadde A,
Suburban Knight,
Minnie Riperton,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Can,
Lindisfarne,
The Zeros,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Saccharine Trust,
Aural Exciters,
Eric Copeland,
KRS-One,
K-Klass,
Au Pairs,
Althea and Donna,
Second Layer,
LL Cool J,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Panda Bear,
The Last Poets,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rod Modell,
Pere Ubu,
Qualms,
Q65,
Brand Nubian,
Suicide,
Little Man,
MC5,
Joey Negro,
Chris & Cosey,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
New York Dolls,
David Axelrod,
Todd Terry,
Joensuu 1685,
Sandy B,
Marmalade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ronan,
T.S.O.L.,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.