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 Ivory Coast and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Robert Palmer 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 Index to the disco 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eden Ahbez,
The Saints,
Funkadelic,
Simply Red,
Brass Construction,
Theoretical Girls,
Rod Modell,
Joe Smooth,
T. Rex,
The Barracudas,
Joey Negro,
Sonny Sharrock,
Matthew Halsall,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
Cymande,
Black Flag,
Hashim,
Bob Dylan,
Tubeway Army,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wasted Youth,
Yazoo,
Alphaville,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Names,
Michelle Simonal,
Easy Going,
Minutemen,
Fat Boys,
DJ Sneak,
Kas Product,
Sister Nancy,
Prince Buster,
The Divine Comedy,
The Doors,
Barry Ungar,
Adolescents,
the Human League,
Pussy Galore,
James White and The Blacks,
Echospace,
Kevin Saunderson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Hood,
The Durutti Column,
Frankie Knuckles,
Audionom,
A Certain Ratio,
Nico,
Agent Orange,
Harpers Bizarre,
Terry Callier,
David Bowie,
Vainqueur,
The Seeds,
The Real Kids,
Mark Hollis,
LL Cool J,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.