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 Nauru and from Accra.
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 Lille and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Eric B and Rakim to the disco 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff 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?
The Grass Roots,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fear,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Iggy Pop,
Pantaleimon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Maurizio,
Leonard Cohen,
Sam Rivers,
Jeff Lynne,
Barry Ungar,
Eli Mardock,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Section 25,
the Germs,
The Index,
Q and Not U,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The New Christs,
John Foxx,
Porter Ricks,
Henry Cow,
Dead Boys,
Aloha Tigers,
Sällskapet,
Byron Stingily,
The Slackers,
JFA,
June of 44,
Interpol,
Arab on Radar,
Thee Headcoats,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Normal,
The Golliwogs,
David McCallum,
Gang of Four,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Raincoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harmonia,
Urselle,
Rotary Connection,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Charles Mingus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tomorrow,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kerrie Biddell,
New Age Steppers,
Minny Pops,
Fela Kuti,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.