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 Zimbabwe and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Saints to the punk 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Quantec,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
The Divine Comedy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
China Crisis,
Ken Boothe,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sound,
Second Layer,
The Seeds,
Whodini,
The J.B.'s,
the Normal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Flag,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Babytalk,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cheater Slicks,
The Five Americans,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
X-101,
Marc Almond,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fire Engines,
Pussy Galore,
Nik Kershaw,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Litter,
Gang Green,
Alphaville,
Bill Wells,
Monks,
FM Einheit,
Niagra,
The Young Rascals,
Ohio Players,
Ultra Naté,
X-102,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Theoretical Girls,
It's A Beautiful Day,
48th St. Collective,
Unwound,
Kurtis Blow,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Brand Nubian,
Mark Hollis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tomorrow,
Sight & Sound,
Agent Orange,
The Music Machine,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.