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 Papua New Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Matthew Bourne,
Shoche,
the Germs,
David McCallum,
Drexciya,
Index,
The Durutti Column,
Wasted Youth,
The Neon Judgement,
Vladislav Delay,
Flash Fearless,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Anthony Braxton,
X-101,
Joey Negro,
The Residents,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Technova,
Ken Boothe,
OOIOO,
Bush Tetras,
DNA,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Doors,
Unwound,
Scratch Acid,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Remains,
Black Pus,
Groovy Waters,
Severed Heads,
Mo-Dettes,
Crooked Eye,
Newcleus,
John Lydon,
Soul II Soul,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minny Pops,
Suburban Knight,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
China Crisis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lou Reed,
Young Marble Giants,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jacques Brel,
Stockholm Monsters,
The United States of America,
Monks,
The Toasters,
Bootsy Collins,
Wire,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
kango's stein massive,
Amon Düül II,
The New Christs,
Lindisfarne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.