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 Czech Republic and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 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 Joyce Sims to the techno 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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Pere Ubu,
Vladislav Delay,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
Franke,
Roxette,
Matthew Bourne,
Blancmange,
Magma,
Grandmaster Flash,
Laurel Aitken,
Freddie Wadling,
X-102,
Junior Murvin,
Pagans,
R.M.O.,
In Retrospect,
OOIOO,
Hardrive,
The Invisible,
Television Personalities,
Arthur Verocai,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scott Walker,
Nik Kershaw,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Last Poets,
Rakim,
John Cale,
Judy Mowatt,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wasted Youth,
Outsiders,
Reuben Wilson,
the Human League,
Peter and Kerry,
Steve Hackett,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ice-T,
Cecil Taylor,
UT,
Cluster,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Happenings,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kas Product,
These Immortal Souls,
Amon Düül,
John Lydon,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Index,
Rapeman,
The Smoke,
FM Einheit,
Lalann,
Nas,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.