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 Oman and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Skatalites to the funk 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
The Busters,
Silicon Teens,
Freddie Wadling,
Little Man,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Deakin,
kango's stein massive,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pylon,
The Dave Clark Five,
Interpol,
Average White Band,
The Music Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Black Flag,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barbara Tucker,
Tres Demented,
The Selecter,
Electric Prunes,
Heaven 17,
Idris Muhammad,
Eli Mardock,
JFA,
Rekid,
Black Sheep,
Kerri Chandler,
Rufus Thomas,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Zapp,
the Germs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Audionom,
Nik Kershaw,
Pharoah Sanders,
Andrew Hill,
Skaos,
Theoretical Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Scan 7,
Radiopuhelimet,
Echospace,
The Standells,
The Stooges,
Liliput,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Görl,
Roger Hodgson,
Babytalk,
Make Up,
Donald Byrd,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Bauhaus,
the Bar-Kays,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.