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 Bulgaria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the techno 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Move,
MDC,
The Gun Club,
The Wake,
Nico,
Rufus Thomas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Bar-Kays,
Fatback Band,
Guru Guru,
Lindisfarne,
Letta Mbulu,
Echospace,
Oblivians,
The Seeds,
Mark Hollis,
Arthur Verocai,
Yellowson,
Blancmange,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Victims,
Newcleus,
Wolf Eyes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rapeman,
The Last Poets,
Rod Modell,
Vainqueur,
Donny Hathaway,
Crime,
Scott Walker,
The Birthday Party,
Black Flag,
Tears for Fears,
B.T. Express,
Gerry Rafferty,
Interpol,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cal Tjader,
Joyce Sims,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smoke,
Stereo Dub,
Delon & Dalcan,
Skriet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Accadde A,
The Buckinghams,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Divine Comedy,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
In Retrospect,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Faraquet,
Graham Central Station,
Matthew Bourne,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Litter,
The Sound,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.