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 Lebanon and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Sound to the jazz 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bill Near,
Chris Corsano,
Faraquet,
June of 44,
X-101,
World's Most,
Harmonia,
Wasted Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Flag,
Dave Gahan,
Livin' Joy,
a-ha,
Lightning Bolt,
PIL,
Archie Shepp,
Ice-T,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultra Naté,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sugar Minott,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Cramps,
Cheater Slicks,
Fela Kuti,
Pharoah Sanders,
Drexciya,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pere Ubu,
Animal Collective,
Pole,
Throbbing Gristle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roxette,
Joey Negro,
Gang of Four,
Thee Headcoats,
Mo-Dettes,
Lungfish,
The Monks,
The Fortunes,
Scan 7,
Bad Manners,
Heaven 17,
Make Up,
Morten Harket,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scratch Acid,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mandrill,
China Crisis,
Shoche,
Surgeon,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.