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 Russia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Arab on Radar to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '70s 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 The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joy Division,
Nas,
The Skatalites,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Buzzcocks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Zeros,
The Barracudas,
Supertramp,
These Immortal Souls,
Donny Hathaway,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Yazoo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ten City,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Mills,
Donald Byrd,
Scott Walker,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Names,
Glambeats Corp.,
Robert Wyatt,
Sugar Minott,
EPMD,
The Slits,
Monks,
Man Parrish,
Scrapy,
Warsaw,
CMW,
The Mummies,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
The Remains,
Barry Ungar,
Gang Gang Dance,
Don Cherry,
Stereo Dub,
The Birthday Party,
Nation of Ulysses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Flash Fearless,
Unwound,
The Techniques,
Yellowson,
Gang Green,
Lungfish,
Severed Heads,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Last Poets,
Pylon,
Isaac Hayes,
June of 44,
Nils Olav,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Offenders,
Radiohead,
The Velvet Underground,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.