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 Turkmenistan and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Loose Ends to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Slick Rick,
John Holt,
Fela Kuti,
Fad Gadget,
Yaz,
Morten Harket,
Deadbeat,
Pere Ubu,
The Mummies,
Althea and Donna,
Todd Terry,
Vladislav Delay,
The Music Machine,
UT,
Ronan,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Pus,
The Human League,
Sound Behaviour,
Blake Baxter,
The Fugs,
The Beau Brummels,
Prince Buster,
John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Skriet,
Bauhaus,
Anthony Braxton,
Dark Day,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mantronix,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bluetip,
Scott Walker,
Swans,
Pantaleimon,
Warsaw,
Aural Exciters,
Bad Manners,
The Saints,
Big Daddy Kane,
Q and Not U,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
Nick Fraelich,
Johnny Osbourne,
Soulsonic Force,
Marmalade,
DJ Sneak,
Andrew Hill,
Newcleus,
Procol Harum,
JFA,
Clear Light,
Roger Hodgson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Cowsills,
Derrick May,
The Velvet Underground,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.