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 Panama and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Subhumans to the grunge 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Hoover,
Roy Ayers,
Livin' Joy,
A Certain Ratio,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott Heron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Hot Snakes,
Surgeon,
Tubeway Army,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlback,
Monks,
Quando Quango,
Cybotron,
Althea and Donna,
This Heat,
Roxette,
Eli Mardock,
Swans,
Sonic Youth,
World's Most,
Ohio Players,
Infiniti,
Rod Modell,
Jimmy McGriff,
Technova,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cowsills,
The Remains,
Alton Ellis,
DNA,
Youth Brigade,
Blake Baxter,
Lightning Bolt,
The Stooges,
Tres Demented,
The Cramps,
Bobby Byrd,
Stetsasonic,
Make Up,
The Zeros,
Camouflage,
The Slackers,
Peter & Gordon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barrington Levy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Chrome,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Index,
Erykah Badu,
Junior Murvin,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Marcia Griffiths,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.