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 Saudi Arabia and from Philadelphia.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Alphaville to the rap 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fugs,
The Wake,
Kerri Chandler,
Livin' Joy,
The Last Poets,
Moss Icon,
Soul II Soul,
Saccharine Trust,
The J.B.'s,
Eli Mardock,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Graham Central Station,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Los Fastidios,
New Age Steppers,
Piero Umiliani,
Country Teasers,
MC5,
Animal Collective,
Monks,
The Martian,
E-Dancer,
Model 500,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Blues Magoos,
The Golliwogs,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Trojans,
Spandau Ballet,
Bad Manners,
Fat Boys,
Infiniti,
Brass Construction,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Amon Düül,
Nico,
Jandek,
Nik Kershaw,
Suicide,
China Crisis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Altered Images,
T. Rex,
Carl Craig,
Lindisfarne,
La Düsseldorf,
Johnny Clarke,
Negative Approach,
Faraquet,
Grey Daturas,
Boredoms,
Sex Pistols,
Erasure,
Jesper Dahlback,
Flipper,
Silicon Teens,
Bob Dylan,
Don Cherry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Robert Görl,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.