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 Singapore and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 Mary Jane Girls to the rock 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
Sex Pistols,
Ultimate Spinach,
Das Ding,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cure,
Bobby Womack,
Deepchord,
Alphaville,
Jacques Brel,
Fat Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
Dead Boys,
Adolescents,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Supertramp,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Standells,
Desert Stars,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pylon,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
Glenn Branca,
Lee Hazlewood,
Colin Newman,
T.S.O.L.,
Underground Resistance,
Blancmange,
the Sonics,
Motorama,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fugs,
Crash Course in Science,
The Move,
Eric Copeland,
Sight & Sound,
Grauzone,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aural Exciters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Accadde A,
Organ,
the Bar-Kays,
Marvin Gaye,
Hasil Adkins,
EPMD,
Fugazi,
the Human League,
Negative Approach,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Khruangbin,
Scrapy,
The Dead C,
Minnie Riperton,
Darondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Duran Duran,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.