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 Hungary and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 Soulsonic Force to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Eve St. Jones,
The Cramps,
Barrington Levy,
Tom Boy,
Ohio Players,
Erasure,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Durutti Column,
Urselle,
Crash Course in Science,
Mark Hollis,
John Cale,
Jeff Lynne,
Suburban Knight,
The Velvet Underground,
Connie Case,
Altered Images,
Scratch Acid,
Roxy Music,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hardrive,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scan 7,
B.T. Express,
The Fire Engines,
Laurel Aitken,
Sarah Menescal,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David Axelrod,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
Talk Talk,
Fluxion,
Crooked Eye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Visage,
Suicide,
the Bar-Kays,
Lakeside,
Lou Christie,
Das Ding,
Bobby Sherman,
Minnie Riperton,
Pussy Galore,
Dawn Penn,
Thee Headcoats,
48th St. Collective,
Archie Shepp,
Rod Modell,
X-101,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Agent Orange,
The Divine Comedy,
Tommy Roe,
Swell Maps,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
MC5,
Organ,
Vainqueur,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.