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 United Kingdom and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum 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 The Divine Comedy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Fugs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Electric Prunes,
Crime,
KRS-One,
ABC,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Almond,
The Martian,
The Knickerbockers,
Depeche Mode,
Howard Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
The Golliwogs,
Warren Ellis,
Tomorrow,
Model 500,
Steve Hackett,
Icehouse,
F. McDonald,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
Mission of Burma,
Eden Ahbez,
Zapp,
Pantytec,
A Certain Ratio,
Nirvana,
Boredoms,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Darondo,
Barrington Levy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sandy B,
David Bowie,
Lightning Bolt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
Kevin Saunderson,
Neil Young,
John Foxx,
Rod Modell,
Roy Ayers,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
Eli Mardock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stiv Bators,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dead Boys,
Albert Ayler,
Ornette Coleman,
The Names,
Eddi Front,
Sixth Finger,
Sex Pistols,
Adolescents,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Quadrant,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.