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 Luxembourg and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Urselle to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sly & The Family Stone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Moby Grape,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultra Naté,
Sun City Girls,
MDC,
The Martian,
Scan 7,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Yaz,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nik Kershaw,
The J.B.'s,
Black Pus,
Schoolly D,
Roxette,
Soft Cell,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cymande,
The Motions,
Buzzcocks,
Guru Guru,
Faraquet,
T.S.O.L.,
Sparks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Roger Hodgson,
Procol Harum,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Leaves,
Tomorrow,
The Associates,
Big Daddy Kane,
H. Thieme,
The Young Rascals,
Brick,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lyres,
David Bowie,
The Monks,
Godley & Creme,
The Gladiators,
Boredoms,
Robert Wyatt,
Marine Girls,
The Count Five,
Anthony Braxton,
Hot Snakes,
Panda Bear,
AZ,
The Buckinghams,
Black Sheep,
The United States of America,
Bronski Beat,
Accadde A,
Theoretical Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Magazine,
This Heat,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.