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 Netherlands and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Sparks,
Sugar Minott,
Idris Muhammad,
Stereo Dub,
Sandy B,
Terry Callier,
The Smiths,
H. Thieme,
the Sonics,
Vainqueur,
Gil Scott Heron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Crooked Eye,
Nik Kershaw,
Dawn Penn,
The Cowsills,
Talk Talk,
Dead Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Soulsonic Force,
Hashim,
The Cure,
Mad Mike,
Moss Icon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Davy DMX,
Sexual Harrassment,
Isaac Hayes,
Minny Pops,
Rakim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
Roy Ayers,
Pussy Galore,
Cameo,
Rites of Spring,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roxette,
The Searchers,
Wally Richardson,
Carl Craig,
Darondo,
Juan Atkins,
Make Up,
John Holt,
Lower 48,
Quando Quango,
Scrapy,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smoke,
The Last Poets,
Piero Umiliani,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Magazine,
Bobby Sherman,
Shuggie Otis,
B.T. Express,
Joe Finger,
The Divine Comedy,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.