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 Botswana and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Paris.
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 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 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 Massinfluence to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris & Cosey,
Heaven 17,
The Saints,
Ponytail,
Andrew Hill,
Rekid,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sound,
Deakin,
Popol Vuh,
The Monks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stiv Bators,
The Cosmic Jokers,
48th St. Collective,
Ituana,
Harmonia,
The Gladiators,
Metal Thangz,
the Soft Cell,
Television,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skriet,
Amazonics,
Simply Red,
Moss Icon,
The Slackers,
The Index,
Marvin Gaye,
Stockholm Monsters,
Buzzcocks,
Visage,
Fad Gadget,
Gregory Isaacs,
DNA,
Eve St. Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Bad Manners,
The Vogues,
The Cramps,
Hashim,
Davy DMX,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
Byron Stingily,
Rapeman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boredoms,
Thompson Twins,
Procol Harum,
Bobby Womack,
Sixth Finger,
The Gun Club,
Joyce Sims,
Man Parrish,
Eli Mardock,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mr. Review,
Sex Pistols,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.