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 Philippines and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mars to the grunge 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Niagra,
Johnny Clarke,
Sarah Menescal,
Jawbox,
X-101,
Brothers Johnson,
The Kinks,
The Gap Band,
Bang On A Can,
Neil Young,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Red Krayola,
John Holt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scientists,
Ossler,
The Standells,
the Germs,
Wally Richardson,
John Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
the Slits,
Gang Starr,
The Beau Brummels,
Letta Mbulu,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
Eric B and Rakim,
Babytalk,
New Age Steppers,
Jacques Brel,
Marcia Griffiths,
Monks,
Amazonics,
Wasted Youth,
Scion,
Oblivians,
Fatback Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dark Day,
Janne Schatter,
Tomorrow,
Erykah Badu,
Simply Red,
Camouflage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Little Man,
Swans,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Hood,
Toni Rubio,
Infiniti,
The Litter,
The Walker Brothers,
Franke,
Panda Bear,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.