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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Malaria! to the rap 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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rapeman,
Bronski Beat,
Royal Trux,
Anthony Braxton,
Harry Pussy,
Moss Icon,
Slave,
The Seeds,
Pantytec,
Harmonia,
Hot Snakes,
T. Rex,
Amon Düül,
the Swans,
Yazoo,
CMW,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The New Christs,
R.M.O.,
Eddi Front,
The Fortunes,
A Certain Ratio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Sheep,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Happenings,
The Invisible,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ice-T,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Porter Ricks,
Alison Limerick,
Fela Kuti,
Echospace,
Television Personalities,
Drexciya,
Ronan,
Wings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Angry Samoans,
Hasil Adkins,
Monolake,
Gang of Four,
Dave Gahan,
Intrusion,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Durutti Column,
Eric Copeland,
Johnny Osbourne,
Charles Mingus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Shuggie Otis,
Interpol,
the Slits,
Bauhaus,
Television,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.