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 Azerbaijan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 Matthew Halsall to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Bob Dylan,
Massinfluence,
Ultravox,
Radio Birdman,
Scion,
Tom Boy,
The Beau Brummels,
The Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
Bang On A Can,
Lower 48,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mission of Burma,
David McCallum,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Victims,
Roy Ayers,
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Buckinghams,
Connie Case,
Godley & Creme,
Funky Four + One,
Wasted Youth,
The United States of America,
Anthony Braxton,
UT,
Main Source,
The Doobie Brothers,
Erasure,
Frankie Knuckles,
Metal Thangz,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Swans,
Zero Boys,
Camouflage,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minutemen,
The Standells,
The Techniques,
The Neon Judgement,
Susan Cadogan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Gang Green,
Josef K,
H. Thieme,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Divine Comedy,
Cybotron,
Faust,
Mars,
Leonard Cohen,
Man Eating Sloth,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
Fear,
Kool Moe Dee,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.