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 Mali and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cure to the techno 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
The Durutti Column,
This Heat,
The J.B.'s,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Birthday Party,
The Martian,
Brass Construction,
Josef K,
Sexual Harrassment,
Boredoms,
Charles Mingus,
Accadde A,
Barrington Levy,
Ossler,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Little Man,
Das Ding,
Deepchord,
John Foxx,
Sonic Youth,
The Red Krayola,
The Star Department,
Easy Going,
Mark Hollis,
John Holt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Howard Jones,
The Buckinghams,
The Music Machine,
Masters at Work,
Gabor Szabo,
Bauhaus,
Monolake,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Techniques,
the Slits,
Von Mondo,
R.M.O.,
Bluetip,
the Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Groovy Waters,
Lalann,
Faraquet,
The American Breed,
Godley & Creme,
Tom Boy,
Eddi Front,
Matthew Bourne,
Sixth Finger,
Lower 48,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arab on Radar,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Letta Mbulu,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.