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 Ecuador and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Quantec to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Fluxion,
The Electric Prunes,
Minnie Riperton,
Ituana,
Von Mondo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Normal,
Siglo XX,
The J.B.'s,
Minor Threat,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Slackers,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Green,
Fatback Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Morten Harket,
Au Pairs,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Buckinghams,
Little Man,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Selecter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Slits,
The Martian,
Quadrant,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Vogues,
Minutemen,
Lakeside,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Womack,
Sällskapet,
Ultimate Spinach,
DNA,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Moby Grape,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Suicide,
Rapeman,
The Smoke,
Fat Boys,
Connie Case,
Moebius,
Erykah Badu,
Joensuu 1685,
Archie Shepp,
Quando Quango,
The Young Rascals,
Country Teasers,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dead C,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Heaven 17,
Donald Byrd,
Eli Mardock,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.