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 Tanzania and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the jazz 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
The Misunderstood,
Interpol,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pulsallama,
Moebius,
Alison Limerick,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
June of 44,
Bauhaus,
Cymande,
Crooked Eye,
Electric Prunes,
Dark Day,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hoover,
Michelle Simonal,
Supertramp,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Y Pants,
The Fuzztones,
Ken Boothe,
Black Bananas,
John Holt,
Lebanon Hanover,
Young Marble Giants,
Brass Construction,
Wings,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Stooges,
Yazoo,
CMW,
Bill Near,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dual Sessions,
Ultravox,
Lucky Dragons,
Dave Gahan,
The Smiths,
Roger Hodgson,
The Flesh Eaters,
The United States of America,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
Nas,
John Cale,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Oneida,
Leonard Cohen,
The Monochrome Set,
The Human League,
Angry Samoans,
The Young Rascals,
Jawbox,
Gong,
Inner City,
Das Ding,
Colin Newman,
Prince Buster,
Banda Bassotti,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.