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 Solomon Islands and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the rap 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Five Americans,
Eddi Front,
Yusef Lateef,
Ten City,
Radiohead,
Mad Mike,
Curtis Mayfield,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Sonics,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Music Machine,
Sugar Minott,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Skriet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gories,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cluster,
T. Rex,
Joe Smooth,
T.S.O.L.,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Smoke,
The Knickerbockers,
Moebius,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deepchord,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Au Pairs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Bananas,
Henry Cow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alton Ellis,
New Order,
KRS-One,
Peter & Gordon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Country Teasers,
Parry Music,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chris Corsano,
Cybotron,
Black Sheep,
The Slits,
John Lydon,
Babytalk,
Janne Schatter,
Deadbeat,
Bronski Beat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gregory Isaacs,
New Age Steppers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Real Kids,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.