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 Bahrain and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Shoche to the grunge 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
John Foxx,
Chrome,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Buckinghams,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
Mars,
Sex Pistols,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Grey Daturas,
Qualms,
The Dave Clark Five,
Throbbing Gristle,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Leonard Cohen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Outsiders,
Morten Harket,
Mark Hollis,
Terry Callier,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Alphaville,
Todd Rundgren,
Aswad,
Aloha Tigers,
Y Pants,
Matthew Halsall,
The Offenders,
Swans,
Organ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crooked Eye,
The Leaves,
The Count Five,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Minny Pops,
X-Ray Spex,
The Index,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Flipper,
Vladislav Delay,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Zero Boys,
Sixth Finger,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blackbyrds,
Rhythm & Sound,
A Certain Ratio,
Wally Richardson,
Sister Nancy,
The Last Poets,
These Immortal Souls,
Suicide,
MDC,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Order,
Maurizio,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.