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 Malta and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 clarinet 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 Slave to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dual Sessions. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
T. Rex,
Wasted Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ultravox,
Zapp,
Graham Central Station,
Scan 7,
The United States of America,
Los Fastidios,
Harmonia,
Leonard Cohen,
Black Moon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mad Mike,
The Barracudas,
Talk Talk,
Swell Maps,
Andrew Hill,
The Blackbyrds,
Todd Terry,
Gang Green,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Womack,
Thompson Twins,
John Coltrane,
Saccharine Trust,
The Neon Judgement,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Starr,
Intrusion,
Lyres,
Hardrive,
Nirvana,
The Gladiators,
Panda Bear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slits,
Unwound,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cowsills,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
LL Cool J,
The New Christs,
Rosa Yemen,
Agent Orange,
Marvin Gaye,
Cluster,
Johnny Clarke,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Yazoo,
Moby Grape,
Desert Stars,
Kayak,
Lakeside,
Dave Gahan,
Hasil Adkins,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.