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 France and from Beijing.
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 Milan and Johannesburg.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Sugar Minott to the jazz 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Derrick Morgan,
The Durutti Column,
Connie Case,
The Martian,
The Names,
Roxette,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Clarke,
Faraquet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
cv313,
Man Eating Sloth,
One Last Wish,
The Last Poets,
Ultra Naté,
Grey Daturas,
Kayak,
The Busters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Buzzcocks,
The Smiths,
The Dead C,
The Invisible,
Kaleidoscope,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Count Five,
Howard Jones,
Tom Boy,
L. Decosne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Erykah Badu,
The Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Urselle,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare,
Ossler,
Chris Corsano,
Scott Walker,
Erasure,
Grandmaster Flash,
Godley & Creme,
T.S.O.L.,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Mojo Men,
Toni Rubio,
Sonic Youth,
Chris & Cosey,
Tears for Fears,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Neu!,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Amon Düül,
Anthony Braxton,
Blancmange,
Excepter,
The Star Department,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.