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 Austria and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 the Human League to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 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 sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Bizarre Inc.,
Von Mondo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Blossom Toes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Liliput,
H. Thieme,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Carl Craig,
Wings,
Erasure,
Sound Behaviour,
Alton Ellis,
Cecil Taylor,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Residents,
Moby Grape,
the Swans,
Rites of Spring,
Inner City,
Jeff Mills,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Christie,
Depeche Mode,
Terry Callier,
Pussy Galore,
Average White Band,
Freddie Wadling,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Niagra,
The Trojans,
Leonard Cohen,
B.T. Express,
48th St. Collective,
Can,
Amon Düül,
The Slits,
The Busters,
Sarah Menescal,
Spandau Ballet,
Cameo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Misunderstood,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Evens,
Godley & Creme,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Selecter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Malaria!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faust,
Dual Sessions,
Franke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Wire,
Kool Moe Dee,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.