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 Tonga and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sound to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Byron Stingily,
Josef K,
Yazoo,
The Durutti Column,
Qualms,
Gong,
Hoover,
Excepter,
Mandrill,
The Gories,
Goldenarms,
the Normal,
The Leaves,
Chrome,
The Move,
Symarip,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Neon Judgement,
Albert Ayler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Little Man,
The Blackbyrds,
Metal Thangz,
Andrew Hill,
the Bar-Kays,
Minnie Riperton,
The Smiths,
Eric Copeland,
Lakeside,
Tubeway Army,
Malaria!,
The Slits,
Amazonics,
Letta Mbulu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brand Nubian,
Bush Tetras,
Tom Boy,
Lindisfarne,
The Grass Roots,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eden Ahbez,
Todd Terry,
The American Breed,
Jacob Miller,
Skaos,
Spoonie Gee,
The Remains,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare,
Lungfish,
Soft Machine,
Susan Cadogan,
Pulsallama,
Rekid,
The Pop Group,
These Immortal Souls,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
Main Source,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.