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 Maldives and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Skatalites to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lalo Schifrin,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Silicon Teens,
Kenny Larkin,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soft Cell,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Misunderstood,
Lindisfarne,
The Blues Magoos,
Organ,
The Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wolf Eyes,
Letta Mbulu,
Man Parrish,
Ronan,
Amon Düül,
Basic Channel,
Pagans,
The Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anthony Braxton,
Intrusion,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Coltrane,
China Crisis,
Circle Jerks,
The Motions,
Dennis Brown,
Eli Mardock,
New Age Steppers,
EPMD,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Green,
Interpol,
Brothers Johnson,
Simply Red,
Blossom Toes,
Scion,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Angels of Light,
Groovy Waters,
Buzzcocks,
Lightning Bolt,
ABC,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pantaleimon,
Alton Ellis,
Connie Case,
Sonny Sharrock,
Neu!,
Public Image Ltd.,
Can,
Morten Harket,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.