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 Kosovo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barbara Tucker to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
John Holt,
The Vogues,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tom Boy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
R.M.O.,
UT,
Television,
Charles Mingus,
Franke,
KRS-One,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Gong,
Wally Richardson,
Grey Daturas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Talk Talk,
Sällskapet,
The Names,
The Standells,
The Walker Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
cv313,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wolf Eyes,
Bluetip,
Marine Girls,
John Lydon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Steve Hackett,
Joy Division,
Marcia Griffiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donny Hathaway,
Mark Hollis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Isaac Hayes,
Clear Light,
Sonic Youth,
Lindisfarne,
T. Rex,
Marc Almond,
Danielle Patucci,
Television Personalities,
Suicide,
The Neon Judgement,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.