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 Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Kaleidoscope to the electroclash 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Barrington Levy,
Blancmange,
Mo-Dettes,
The Residents,
Maleditus Sound,
Pylon,
The Fortunes,
Infiniti,
Tommy Roe,
The Skatalites,
Scion,
Amon Düül II,
The Five Americans,
The Angels of Light,
Duran Duran,
The Mummies,
Fela Kuti,
The New Christs,
Pagans,
The Music Machine,
The Trojans,
The Smoke,
Skaos,
Kas Product,
Mandrill,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joe Smooth,
Young Marble Giants,
Boredoms,
Ponytail,
Eric B and Rakim,
Urselle,
Blake Baxter,
Severed Heads,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Can,
Second Layer,
Model 500,
Danielle Patucci,
The Litter,
Michelle Simonal,
The Barracudas,
Wolf Eyes,
Stetsasonic,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Move,
The Walker Brothers,
Roxy Music,
Yaz,
Nirvana,
Slick Rick,
The Pretty Things,
Piero Umiliani,
Scientists,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Siglo XX,
Alison Limerick,
Blossom Toes,
Smog,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.