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 Namibia and from Paris.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Moss Icon to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Pierre Henry,
The Knickerbockers,
Popol Vuh,
The Blackbyrds,
Crash Course in Science,
Cameo,
John Lydon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Bananas,
Spandau Ballet,
Scion,
the Slits,
Rotary Connection,
Wolf Eyes,
L. Decosne,
Eli Mardock,
The Vogues,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dawn Penn,
Man Parrish,
Gong,
John Foxx,
The Red Krayola,
Pantytec,
The Human League,
The J.B.'s,
Pet Shop Boys,
Surgeon,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Techniques,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faraquet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ohio Players,
Howard Jones,
Mars,
June of 44,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rapeman,
Interpol,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
a-ha,
Eddi Front,
H. Thieme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Andrew Hill,
The Fall,
John Holt,
The Barracudas,
Sun Ra,
Archie Shepp,
Simply Red,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultravox,
Toni Rubio,
Fat Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
The Kinks,
Matthew Bourne,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.