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 Haiti and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 Deadbeat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Aswad,
Derrick Morgan,
Prince Buster,
Sonic Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
Swans,
The Gap Band,
Surgeon,
Janne Schatter,
Organ,
the Fania All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
The Music Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fugs,
Eurythmics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Max Romeo,
F. McDonald,
Dennis Brown,
Erasure,
Carl Craig,
Schoolly D,
Oblivians,
DJ Style,
Von Mondo,
The Real Kids,
KRS-One,
The Searchers,
Bootsy Collins,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Moon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Spoonie Gee,
Average White Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Popol Vuh,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Slackers,
Can,
Nick Fraelich,
The Trojans,
Grey Daturas,
Los Fastidios,
Television,
The Red Krayola,
The Birthday Party,
The Flesh Eaters,
Clear Light,
Colin Newman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lightning Bolt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agitation Free,
Darondo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ponytail,
Lungfish,
Connie Case,
Camberwell Now,
Newcleus,
One Last Wish,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.