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 Bolivia and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 the Bar-Kays to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
a-ha,
The Litter,
Altered Images,
Roy Ayers,
The Real Kids,
Albert Ayler,
The Blues Magoos,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gladiators,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott Heron,
Goldenarms,
the Human League,
The Modern Lovers,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Pus,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
Neu!,
Stiv Bators,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Barracudas,
Unrelated Segments,
cv313,
Basic Channel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Techniques,
World's Most,
Byron Stingily,
Freddie Wadling,
David Bowie,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Derrick May,
the Sonics,
Eddi Front,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
Sam Rivers,
Dawn Penn,
Massinfluence,
Andrew Hill,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mantronix,
F. McDonald,
Junior Murvin,
John Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
H. Thieme,
New Age Steppers,
Anakelly,
Barrington Levy,
The Birthday Party,
Blossom Toes,
the Bar-Kays,
Prince Buster,
The Divine Comedy,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.