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 Zimbabwe and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Spoonie Gee to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
Cymande,
Loose Ends,
Rod Modell,
Sonny Sharrock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gregory Isaacs,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Invisible,
Blossom Toes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Los Fastidios,
Altered Images,
Banda Bassotti,
Ronan,
Adolescents,
Desert Stars,
Bush Tetras,
the Bar-Kays,
Crispian St. Peters,
Prince Buster,
Ossler,
The Litter,
Gang Starr,
Spandau Ballet,
Make Up,
The Gladiators,
The Mojo Men,
Skriet,
The Red Krayola,
Isaac Hayes,
Parry Music,
Funkadelic,
Robert Hood,
John Foxx,
U.S. Maple,
Symarip,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Christie,
John Coltrane,
Kerri Chandler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boz Scaggs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fear,
Soft Machine,
Bill Near,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David McCallum,
DJ Sneak,
the Normal,
DJ Style,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.