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 United States and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the grime 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
Soft Cell,
Gong,
Scott Walker,
New Age Steppers,
Lucky Dragons,
Technova,
Sandy B,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Görl,
Ultra Naté,
Aswad,
Negative Approach,
Faraquet,
Gabor Szabo,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Vogues,
Johnny Clarke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Trumans Water,
Marine Girls,
Alphaville,
Slave,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Tom Boy,
Pussy Galore,
Infiniti,
Subhumans,
Khruangbin,
Cecil Taylor,
Marvin Gaye,
World's Most,
Dark Day,
Albert Ayler,
Eurythmics,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
F. McDonald,
EPMD,
The Young Rascals,
The Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
Piero Umiliani,
Isaac Hayes,
Moby Grape,
Talk Talk,
The Selecter,
Mandrill,
R.M.O.,
Public Image Ltd.,
Little Man,
Michelle Simonal,
Flipper,
Black Pus,
Cheater Slicks,
Smog,
The Durutti Column,
Ultravox,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.