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 Norway and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Michael McDonald 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 Cybotron to the crunk 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Joyce Sims,
Soulsonic Force,
Barclay James Harvest,
Hot Snakes,
Bush Tetras,
Nirvana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Todd Rundgren,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Electric Prunes,
Connie Case,
Donny Hathaway,
Scratch Acid,
R.M.O.,
Harry Pussy,
Chrome,
Wire,
Sun City Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sällskapet,
Blossom Toes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Maleditus Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Graham Central Station,
The Moleskins,
Kerri Chandler,
Mad Mike,
PIL,
Angry Samoans,
The Zeros,
Television,
Jacques Brel,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Deepchord,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Das Ding,
Judy Mowatt,
Deadbeat,
Faust,
Unrelated Segments,
Cecil Taylor,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Angels of Light,
Lightning Bolt,
This Heat,
Gichy Dan,
Visage,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aswad,
The Doobie Brothers,
Newcleus,
Minor Threat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skarface,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.