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 Thailand and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord 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 The Human League to the electroclash 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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Banda Bassotti,
Audionom,
Tommy Roe,
Rosa Yemen,
The Last Poets,
Malaria!,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare,
8 Eyed Spy,
Khruangbin,
Amazonics,
Freddie Wadling,
Gong,
Crash Course in Science,
Theoretical Girls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Harmonia,
The Music Machine,
Godley & Creme,
Derrick Morgan,
Alphaville,
Lindisfarne,
Jawbox,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Fania All-Stars,
D'Angelo,
The Tremeloes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Erykah Badu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nirvana,
June of 44,
Young Marble Giants,
Buzzcocks,
Arcadia,
Eurythmics,
The Dave Clark Five,
Robert Görl,
The Slackers,
FM Einheit,
Mo-Dettes,
The Star Department,
Henry Cow,
Reuben Wilson,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Residents,
Darondo,
Can,
The Pretty Things,
Monolake,
Organ,
The Young Rascals,
Soft Machine,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.