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 Moldova and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marshall Jefferson to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Deakin,
K-Klass,
Bobby Womack,
Bill Near,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Last Poets,
Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Angry Samoans,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Dual Sessions,
Theoretical Girls,
Prince Buster,
Lyres,
D'Angelo,
Wire,
the Bar-Kays,
The Move,
B.T. Express,
The Blues Magoos,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ludus,
Brothers Johnson,
Pulsallama,
Eve St. Jones,
Mo-Dettes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rufus Thomas,
Magma,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tears for Fears,
Simply Red,
EPMD,
Charles Mingus,
Reagan Youth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Barry Ungar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Flamin' Groovies,
Intrusion,
Monolake,
The Martian,
Kerri Chandler,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Searchers,
Fela Kuti,
Dark Day,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Man Parrish,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cameo,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.