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 Switzerland and from Bologna.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Easy Going to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
F. McDonald,
Arcadia,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Trumans Water,
Gang Green,
Camberwell Now,
Warsaw,
The Red Krayola,
Groovy Waters,
Crispy Ambulance,
The J.B.'s,
Sarah Menescal,
New Order,
Adolescents,
Inner City,
Angry Samoans,
John Coltrane,
X-102,
Outsiders,
Rekid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Negative Approach,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Public Image Ltd.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pagans,
The Techniques,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kurtis Blow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Althea and Donna,
Kerri Chandler,
Nils Olav,
Hashim,
Tropical Tobacco,
Roxy Music,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
The Angels of Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
H. Thieme,
Lower 48,
Mark Hollis,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Age Steppers,
These Immortal Souls,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gladiators,
Pantytec,
Ken Boothe,
Audionom,
Icehouse,
Lalann,
The Dirtbombs,
Ponytail,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Royal Trux,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.