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 Ireland and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Skriet to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
PIL,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Martian,
John Lydon,
the Sonics,
The Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rosa Yemen,
Juan Atkins,
Suburban Knight,
Television Personalities,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Move,
Rufus Thomas,
ABBA,
The Five Americans,
David Axelrod,
Mandrill,
Connie Case,
Boz Scaggs,
Aaron Thompson,
Minutemen,
Jandek,
The Zeros,
Technova,
8 Eyed Spy,
This Heat,
The Evens,
Lakeside,
Judy Mowatt,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
The Star Department,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pole,
The Sonics,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Names,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Blossom Toes,
Vainqueur,
Wire,
Ituana,
48th St. Collective,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Divine Comedy,
Barclay James Harvest,
The J.B.'s,
Jeff Lynne,
Scott Walker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rhythm & Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Jawbox,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grey Daturas,
Moebius,
Roxette,
Grauzone,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.