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 Chile and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Michael McDonald 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 Negative Approach to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Rotary Connection,
Ohio Players,
Pylon,
David Bowie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Sonics,
Barry Ungar,
The Motions,
Loose Ends,
Pantytec,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soulsonic Force,
Altered Images,
Stiv Bators,
Tommy Roe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Reuben Wilson,
The J.B.'s,
Boredoms,
ABBA,
Bad Manners,
Youth Brigade,
The Evens,
the Germs,
Moby Grape,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sex Pistols,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mo-Dettes,
The Misunderstood,
Frankie Knuckles,
Archie Shepp,
Hoover,
The Black Dice,
Ludus,
Don Cherry,
10cc,
This Heat,
Easy Going,
Colin Newman,
Supertramp,
Scion,
The Smoke,
Can,
Liliput,
The Birthday Party,
John Coltrane,
Sällskapet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Faraquet,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kenny Larkin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Oneida,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.