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 Bulgaria and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heaven 17 to the electroclash 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Liliput,
Girls At Our Best!,
Little Man,
Moss Icon,
Crash Course in Science,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kas Product,
Minnie Riperton,
Basic Channel,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Brand Nubian,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Mills,
Sarah Menescal,
Average White Band,
These Immortal Souls,
EPMD,
Wire,
Absolute Body Control,
The Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Khruangbin,
Shuggie Otis,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Human League,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gap Band,
Black Bananas,
Yazoo,
Eric Copeland,
Kerri Chandler,
Supertramp,
Rufus Thomas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Porter Ricks,
Wasted Youth,
Zapp,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Trojans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joe Finger,
Ossler,
Lou Christie,
Sam Rivers,
DNA,
Procol Harum,
One Last Wish,
Easy Going,
The Cramps,
Yusef Lateef,
The Moody Blues,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Last Poets,
Eric Dolphy,
Dark Day,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.