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 Norway and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Chris Corsano to the grime 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Copeland,
Barrington Levy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Grauzone,
Barbara Tucker,
Derrick May,
Schoolly D,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerrie Biddell,
This Heat,
The Last Poets,
The Slackers,
China Crisis,
Marine Girls,
Roxy Music,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Todd Rundgren,
The Barracudas,
The Modern Lovers,
Nils Olav,
Malaria!,
Rites of Spring,
Joey Negro,
Tommy Roe,
The Wake,
The Smiths,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ken Boothe,
Sight & Sound,
Drexciya,
The Saints,
Lou Christie,
Sexual Harrassment,
Henry Cow,
Moby Grape,
Shoche,
Letta Mbulu,
Blancmange,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw,
Fela Kuti,
The Dead C,
The Fortunes,
Model 500,
Accadde A,
The Beau Brummels,
Sound Behaviour,
Circle Jerks,
Radiopuhelimet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tears for Fears,
Freddie Wadling,
Index,
Flipper,
Peter and Kerry,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gabor Szabo,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.