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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 The Sound to the crunk 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Black Flag,
Arab on Radar,
New Age Steppers,
Essential Logic,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Womack,
Banda Bassotti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nils Olav,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The American Breed,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Procol Harum,
Trumans Water,
Faust,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
June Days,
Agitation Free,
Black Pus,
the Slits,
Boz Scaggs,
Supertramp,
Guru Guru,
Mark Hollis,
Bob Dylan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
China Crisis,
T.S.O.L.,
Jerry's Kids,
Scrapy,
Rakim,
Hardrive,
LL Cool J,
Accadde A,
Matthew Bourne,
Fatback Band,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Green,
The Moody Blues,
Quando Quango,
Letta Mbulu,
Aaron Thompson,
Nas,
Chris Corsano,
Blossom Toes,
Half Japanese,
Marmalade,
Babytalk,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Depeche Mode,
Josef K,
Glenn Branca,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.