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 Venezuela and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Grass Roots to the electroclash 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Tim Buckley,
The Mojo Men,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Oblivians,
Tres Demented,
the Human League,
The Names,
EPMD,
Minnie Riperton,
Deakin,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Clarke,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
F. McDonald,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Wasted Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Sixth Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Starr,
Echospace,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blues Magoos,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Pretty Things,
Soul II Soul,
Max Romeo,
The Cure,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Yaz,
Tomorrow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Index,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ornette Coleman,
E-Dancer,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bootsy Collins,
Deadbeat,
Man Parrish,
Roxette,
Blossom Toes,
Alice Coltrane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Average White Band,
Babytalk,
The Happenings,
Sparks,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.