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 Malta and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Aural Exciters to the techno 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Scion,
The Victims,
OOIOO,
The Saints,
The Fuzztones,
The Red Krayola,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Flag,
Nas,
Visage,
Danielle Patucci,
Roy Ayers,
Wasted Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
X-102,
Soul II Soul,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Metal Thangz,
Siglo XX,
Tubeway Army,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Maurizio,
Ultra Naté,
Pierre Henry,
The Happenings,
Japan,
The Knickerbockers,
Little Man,
Black Bananas,
Flash Fearless,
Slave,
The Cure,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Busters,
Monks,
Laurel Aitken,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Smiths,
Harmonia,
Lower 48,
Circle Jerks,
Shuggie Otis,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tears for Fears,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Iggy Pop,
The Trojans,
The United States of America,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ken Boothe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Foxx,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Almond,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gong,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ituana,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.