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 Rwanda 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
Silicon Teens,
Goldenarms,
Depeche Mode,
Wire,
Fat Boys,
Gang Starr,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
Gang Green,
Y Pants,
Quando Quango,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Main Source,
The Litter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roxette,
Graham Central Station,
Henry Cow,
The Angels of Light,
The American Breed,
H. Thieme,
Erykah Badu,
The Electric Prunes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Heaven 17,
Barbara Tucker,
Schoolly D,
Jawbox,
Pantytec,
Stereo Dub,
Banda Bassotti,
The Dirtbombs,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Public Enemy,
The Cramps,
Letta Mbulu,
Mo-Dettes,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Tears for Fears,
Lindisfarne,
Sällskapet,
Simply Red,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swell Maps,
Scrapy,
LL Cool J,
Supertramp,
Nation of Ulysses,
Duran Duran,
The Velvet Underground,
Gang of Four,
Mandrill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ice-T,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.