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 Finland and from London.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Misunderstood to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Albert Ayler,
Fela Kuti,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Liliput,
Livin' Joy,
Visage,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Trojans,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
The Knickerbockers,
Iggy Pop,
Davy DMX,
Reagan Youth,
Thee Headcoats,
Dead Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cramps,
Silicon Teens,
Kerri Chandler,
New York Dolls,
The Raincoats,
U.S. Maple,
The Dirtbombs,
Pussy Galore,
Howard Jones,
Marvin Gaye,
Y Pants,
Piero Umiliani,
Adolescents,
Al Stewart,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bill Wells,
John Holt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Womack,
T. Rex,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rod Modell,
Byron Stingily,
Black Moon,
D'Angelo,
Oneida,
Sound Behaviour,
Nils Olav,
Chris & Cosey,
Q and Not U,
Man Eating Sloth,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Victims,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Kinks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Half Japanese,
Desert Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mars,
In Retrospect,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.