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 Nigeria and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer 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 Connie Case to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Sällskapet,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Monks,
Matthew Halsall,
David Axelrod,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Heaven 17,
Althea and Donna,
Michelle Simonal,
The Electric Prunes,
Quando Quango,
Suburban Knight,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eric Copeland,
Scrapy,
Icehouse,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alton Ellis,
Bill Wells,
Jesper Dahlback,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Outsiders,
The Last Poets,
Lucky Dragons,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Absolute Body Control,
Wire,
Ronnie Foster,
Monolake,
Pagans,
Warren Ellis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roxy Music,
Inner City,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smiths,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slick Rick,
Aural Exciters,
This Heat,
Crash Course in Science,
Silicon Teens,
Ronan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yusef Lateef,
Nas,
Bob Dylan,
Easy Going,
Infiniti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Audionom,
The Residents,
Blossom Toes,
Main Source,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.