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 Guinea and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ituana to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Infiniti,
FM Einheit,
Rites of Spring,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Howard Jones,
Charles Mingus,
The Fugs,
Ice-T,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
F. McDonald,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fear,
Mantronix,
Lakeside,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scion,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Main Source,
Minor Threat,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aural Exciters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Marvin Gaye,
Excepter,
MDC,
Fugazi,
The Saints,
Popol Vuh,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Y Pants,
H. Thieme,
The Red Krayola,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
Warsaw,
Desert Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dual Sessions,
Rod Modell,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Sherman,
Can,
Average White Band,
The Busters,
Wasted Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Neil Young,
Alison Limerick,
Buzzcocks,
Ossler,
The Sonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Hood,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.