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 Bhutan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 8 Eyed Spy to the grime 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Lalann,
Make Up,
Fear,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Christie,
Jandek,
Index,
Porter Ricks,
A Certain Ratio,
The American Breed,
The Zeros,
the Human League,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cowsills,
Camouflage,
The Tremeloes,
Deakin,
Negative Approach,
K-Klass,
Ice-T,
Nas,
Technova,
Pantytec,
Aloha Tigers,
The Last Poets,
These Immortal Souls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cure,
Japan,
Minny Pops,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scott Walker,
L. Decosne,
Josef K,
Girls At Our Best!,
Neil Young,
Schoolly D,
Colin Newman,
Fugazi,
Stereo Dub,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tommy Roe,
Liliput,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Lydon,
Tubeway Army,
The Evens,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dave Gahan,
the Normal,
Black Moon,
Television,
Icehouse,
DJ Style,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Dave Clark Five,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Unrelated Segments,
The New Christs,
Oblivians,
Mantronix,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.