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 Comoros and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar 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 Faust to the crunk 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
Jacques Brel,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Remains,
Letta Mbulu,
Popol Vuh,
Sun Ra,
The Music Machine,
MC5,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ronnie Foster,
The Toasters,
Main Source,
Pussy Galore,
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Echospace,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Motions,
The Sonics,
The Moody Blues,
Maurizio,
CMW,
The Blackbyrds,
Scratch Acid,
Fear,
Negative Approach,
Thee Headcoats,
Connie Case,
The Pretty Things,
10cc,
Yellowson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Graham Central Station,
Ultra Naté,
Susan Cadogan,
H. Thieme,
Das Ding,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Boogie Down Productions,
Prince Buster,
The Black Dice,
Y Pants,
Nick Fraelich,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Porter Ricks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Television,
Scan 7,
Archie Shepp,
Derrick May,
Hashim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Monolake,
Procol Harum,
The Young Rascals,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marcia Griffiths,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.