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 Norway 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 The Wake to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin 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 linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dead C,
Deakin,
Pere Ubu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angry Samoans,
The Saints,
Nils Olav,
Minny Pops,
Matthew Halsall,
The Durutti Column,
Silicon Teens,
Index,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Sonics,
Buzzcocks,
Warsaw,
The Index,
Siglo XX,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fall,
Arthur Verocai,
Lalann,
John Lydon,
The Trojans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nik Kershaw,
Warren Ellis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Al Stewart,
Pantytec,
Newcleus,
Brass Construction,
Fad Gadget,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
David Bowie,
Judy Mowatt,
the Slits,
Bang On A Can,
Tres Demented,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Anakelly,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Style,
Johnny Osbourne,
MC5,
Y Pants,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nirvana,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Normal,
Rakim,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.