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 Botswana and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the crunk 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
T. Rex,
Lungfish,
Fear,
Joy Division,
Pantaleimon,
D'Angelo,
PIL,
The Standells,
Roger Hodgson,
John Foxx,
Circle Jerks,
The American Breed,
Alton Ellis,
Scott Walker,
Alison Limerick,
Henry Cow,
The Offenders,
Soft Cell,
Kaleidoscope,
Davy DMX,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Minny Pops,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Normal,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lucky Dragons,
The Victims,
Babytalk,
Blake Baxter,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mojo Men,
Bang On A Can,
Second Layer,
Yellowson,
Eric Copeland,
The Move,
The Busters,
Ohio Players,
Michelle Simonal,
Rapeman,
Popol Vuh,
The Tremeloes,
Section 25,
the Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vladislav Delay,
Mission of Burma,
The Count Five,
Graham Central Station,
a-ha,
Fluxion,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Shadows of Knight,
Janne Schatter,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.