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 Canada and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Suicide to the rap 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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
The Cramps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Clarke,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Normal,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sarah Menescal,
Sparks,
Adolescents,
Avey Tare,
Big Daddy Kane,
Intrusion,
Section 25,
Wasted Youth,
Stetsasonic,
Archie Shepp,
Depeche Mode,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Connie Case,
X-102,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roger Hodgson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Con Funk Shun,
Gabor Szabo,
Franke,
Bush Tetras,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cymande,
Gichy Dan,
The J.B.'s,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Soft Cell,
Hoover,
Amon Düül II,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Little Man,
Trumans Water,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lyres,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Suburban Knight,
Flipper,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ken Boothe,
Aural Exciters,
Saccharine Trust,
Graham Central Station,
L. Decosne,
Amon Düül,
Dual Sessions,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
The Remains,
MDC,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.