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 Mongolia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 David Bowie 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
D'Angelo,
Wire,
Scott Walker,
Gabor Szabo,
Joyce Sims,
Buzzcocks,
Malaria!,
Harry Pussy,
Second Layer,
The Cowsills,
The Dirtbombs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Procol Harum,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Juan Atkins,
MC5,
The Slits,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Five Americans,
The Real Kids,
Drexciya,
the Bar-Kays,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mojo Men,
Camberwell Now,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nico,
Eli Mardock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Litter,
Sight & Sound,
Outsiders,
Average White Band,
Tubeway Army,
Fear,
The Zeros,
T. Rex,
Shuggie Otis,
Fugazi,
The Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Clarke,
Surgeon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sugar Minott,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Infiniti,
The Star Department,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed,
Blossom Toes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-101,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Wake,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.