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 Czech Republic and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alphaville to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
Suicide,
The Leaves,
Byron Stingily,
Motorama,
Robert Görl,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
CMW,
Amazonics,
Junior Murvin,
the Swans,
Ten City,
Scratch Acid,
The J.B.'s,
Dave Gahan,
The Zeros,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eden Ahbez,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Arcadia,
Country Teasers,
Black Moon,
Audionom,
Lou Christie,
Au Pairs,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Selecter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Sherman,
Lakeside,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Black Dice,
Pere Ubu,
Stereo Dub,
Von Mondo,
Monks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Silicon Teens,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hardrive,
Hoover,
The Angels of Light,
Franke,
Scrapy,
The Music Machine,
Andrew Hill,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gabor Szabo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Youth Brigade,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Walker Brothers,
Tomorrow,
The Monks,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.