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 Lagos.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Slick Rick to the techno 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Byron Stingily,
Sonny Sharrock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joey Negro,
Electric Prunes,
Peter & Gordon,
Trumans Water,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scientists,
Andrew Hill,
Letta Mbulu,
Darondo,
The Pretty Things,
Derrick Morgan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Siglo XX,
Skarface,
Young Marble Giants,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare,
Henry Cow,
Yaz,
B.T. Express,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jacques Brel,
The Music Machine,
Surgeon,
Make Up,
UT,
Rapeman,
the Human League,
New York Dolls,
Pharoah Sanders,
These Immortal Souls,
The Golliwogs,
Chris Corsano,
Mars,
Amon Düül,
The Stooges,
Minnie Riperton,
Ken Boothe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
DJ Sneak,
Minny Pops,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Howard Jones,
The Dead C,
The Offenders,
Rosa Yemen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nico,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Audionom,
Deepchord,
Pantaleimon,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.