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 Swaziland and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Soft Machine to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
Mr. Review,
Porter Ricks,
Idris Muhammad,
Eric Dolphy,
Main Source,
Niagra,
Amon Düül,
Toni Rubio,
Delta 5,
Deadbeat,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
Sister Nancy,
Soulsonic Force,
The Move,
Eddi Front,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zapp,
the Slits,
K-Klass,
The Golliwogs,
The Martian,
the Human League,
Peter and Kerry,
U.S. Maple,
Drexciya,
Ultravox,
Easy Going,
Hashim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The J.B.'s,
Lightning Bolt,
Malaria!,
Crime,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
La Düsseldorf,
Tommy Roe,
The Divine Comedy,
Rapeman,
Yazoo,
Rod Modell,
Sandy B,
Hoover,
Joe Smooth,
The Beau Brummels,
The Raincoats,
Faust,
The Index,
The Tremeloes,
Ultra Naté,
The Residents,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mark Hollis,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cramps,
Brick,
Loose Ends,
Juan Atkins,
Susan Cadogan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marvin Gaye,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.