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 Papua New Guinea and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Roy Ayers,
Bronski Beat,
Interpol,
Bush Tetras,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Altered Images,
Dark Day,
the Swans,
The Smoke,
PIL,
Nik Kershaw,
U.S. Maple,
Deepchord,
The Cowsills,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
The Mummies,
F. McDonald,
Sex Pistols,
Audionom,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Cluster,
The Pop Group,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Spandau Ballet,
Glenn Branca,
Mandrill,
Loose Ends,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
June Days,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
Liliput,
Kool Moe Dee,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Seeds,
Mantronix,
Procol Harum,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
the Soft Cell,
Erasure,
The Standells,
Warsaw,
Livin' Joy,
Half Japanese,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Buckinghams,
Nirvana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Man Parrish,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fortunes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.