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 Iceland and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 AZ to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
John Coltrane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Flag,
Dennis Brown,
Pussy Galore,
Leonard Cohen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tom Boy,
Charles Mingus,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultra Naté,
X-101,
Laurel Aitken,
Liliput,
ABC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Technova,
The Offenders,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Television Personalities,
Josef K,
Negative Approach,
Absolute Body Control,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Mission of Burma,
X-102,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wire,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bluetip,
Blancmange,
Metal Thangz,
Alice Coltrane,
Mandrill,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Pop Group,
The Fall,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cecil Taylor,
Bill Wells,
Cal Tjader,
The Gun Club,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Birthday Party,
Sugar Minott,
World's Most,
The Raincoats,
Parry Music,
Panda Bear,
Buzzcocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
These Immortal Souls,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.