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 Poland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Silicon Teens to the jazz 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Stooges,
Harmonia,
Procol Harum,
Davy DMX,
Idris Muhammad,
Brass Construction,
Warren Ellis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blancmange,
John Cale,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scion,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Zero Boys,
Al Stewart,
Tomorrow,
The Dave Clark Five,
Popol Vuh,
The Zeros,
Lightning Bolt,
Arthur Verocai,
Kevin Saunderson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Bananas,
Eddi Front,
Q and Not U,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gong,
The Invisible,
The Grass Roots,
Moebius,
L. Decosne,
Kas Product,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joey Negro,
Iggy Pop,
Lyres,
Crime,
Aswad,
The Mummies,
Boredoms,
Steve Hackett,
The Wake,
Das Ding,
The Pop Group,
Hoover,
Roxy Music,
Interpol,
Arcadia,
Soft Cell,
Gang of Four,
Terry Callier,
Faust,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.