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 Uganda and from New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Dave Gahan to the disco 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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Peter & Gordon,
Rapeman,
The Doors,
Underground Resistance,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Soft Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cluster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Slave,
Los Fastidios,
Eden Ahbez,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rufus Thomas,
The Motions,
John Foxx,
Anthony Braxton,
Intrusion,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Byrd,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wolf Eyes,
Essential Logic,
Fela Kuti,
Althea and Donna,
Junior Murvin,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Todd Terry,
Radiohead,
The Busters,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Derrick Morgan,
Vladislav Delay,
The Star Department,
Index,
Rotary Connection,
cv313,
Skriet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Silicon Teens,
Aswad,
The Fugs,
Pulsallama,
Grey Daturas,
Talk Talk,
Drexciya,
Donald Byrd,
Henry Cow,
Ossler,
Marvin Gaye,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Livin' Joy,
Animal Collective,
The Tremeloes,
L. Decosne,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.