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 Antigua and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Terrestrial Tones 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Excepter,
Technova,
Dark Day,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Al Stewart,
Eli Mardock,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ronnie Foster,
Sparks,
Surgeon,
Don Cherry,
Minnie Riperton,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Robert Wyatt,
The American Breed,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
E-Dancer,
Organ,
Deepchord,
Accadde A,
Visage,
Negative Approach,
Glenn Branca,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sex Pistols,
Ituana,
Pierre Henry,
Tubeway Army,
Nico,
Wally Richardson,
DNA,
Pulsallama,
The Blackbyrds,
Harmonia,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gap Band,
Subhumans,
The Gories,
Loose Ends,
Infiniti,
Amazonics,
Lower 48,
Aloha Tigers,
Matthew Halsall,
The Happenings,
Crash Course in Science,
Joensuu 1685,
Nirvana,
The Dirtbombs,
Bob Dylan,
The Tremeloes,
Barbara Tucker,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül II,
Eddi Front,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ludus,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.