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 Kenya and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Pop Group to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Motorama,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Theoretical Girls,
Fela Kuti,
Prince Buster,
The Detroit Cobras,
U.S. Maple,
Kayak,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Litter,
Colin Newman,
Marmalade,
In Retrospect,
Carl Craig,
Anakelly,
The Birthday Party,
Easy Going,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Black Moon,
Pylon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mark Hollis,
Idris Muhammad,
Grey Daturas,
Arthur Verocai,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smoke,
Don Cherry,
Talk Talk,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Amazonics,
Icehouse,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Remains,
Harmonia,
Roger Hodgson,
A Certain Ratio,
Babytalk,
Neu!,
Big Daddy Kane,
H. Thieme,
Little Man,
Pussy Galore,
Dennis Brown,
Guru Guru,
Dave Gahan,
Reagan Youth,
Hot Snakes,
The Human League,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Foxx,
Bill Near,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Freddie Wadling,
Television,
Erykah Badu,
Rakim,
The Saints,
Wings,
The Beau Brummels,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.