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 Benin and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer 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 Joy Division to the rock 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
L. Decosne,
Make Up,
Jeff Mills,
Au Pairs,
The Associates,
The Fugs,
Cecil Taylor,
Model 500,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barclay James Harvest,
Alison Limerick,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
Lalann,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mission of Burma,
MC5,
Max Romeo,
New Order,
The Mojo Men,
John Lydon,
The Doors,
Josef K,
Glenn Branca,
The J.B.'s,
The Kinks,
Inner City,
Robert Görl,
Blancmange,
Wings,
The Leaves,
Boz Scaggs,
MDC,
Bauhaus,
Swell Maps,
Whodini,
Gong,
Motorama,
Yazoo,
Eden Ahbez,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Litter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Osbourne,
David McCallum,
Audionom,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Blues Magoos,
Thompson Twins,
The Fuzztones,
Joyce Sims,
Hasil Adkins,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fluxion,
Brothers Johnson,
Barry Ungar,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.