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 Zimbabwe and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the electroclash 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare,
New York Dolls,
Bill Wells,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rakim,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Model 500,
The Busters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Moody Blues,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Niagra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
E-Dancer,
Hasil Adkins,
Cameo,
Young Marble Giants,
the Swans,
Can,
Swans,
The Tremeloes,
Spandau Ballet,
Brick,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
Crime,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crooked Eye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brand Nubian,
The Cure,
The Trojans,
The Real Kids,
Scott Walker,
Black Flag,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
CMW,
the Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
John Foxx,
Slick Rick,
This Heat,
Audionom,
Altered Images,
Dorothy Ashby,
Unrelated Segments,
Boredoms,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stereo Dub,
MDC,
Roxette,
Yellowson,
The Angels of Light,
The Beau Brummels,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.