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 Seychelles and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum 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 Marc Almond to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang Green,
Amazonics,
Danielle Patucci,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brass Construction,
Yaz,
Peter and Kerry,
Chrome,
The Monks,
Television Personalities,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
Jacques Brel,
The Names,
X-102,
Duran Duran,
Eve St. Jones,
Ice-T,
Radio Birdman,
A Certain Ratio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Q65,
X-101,
The Red Krayola,
Aswad,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spandau Ballet,
Black Moon,
Derrick May,
Model 500,
Erasure,
Circle Jerks,
Charles Mingus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Coltrane,
Rufus Thomas,
Section 25,
Accadde A,
Crash Course in Science,
The Blackbyrds,
The Black Dice,
Lower 48,
Flipper,
10cc,
Shoche,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiohead,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Dirtbombs,
Quantec,
Guru Guru,
Royal Trux,
Von Mondo,
Panda Bear,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.