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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba 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 China Crisis to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
The Pop Group,
Eli Mardock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Barrington Levy,
The Fugs,
Rosa Yemen,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Y Pants,
Mad Mike,
Neil Young,
Moby Grape,
Flipper,
Hot Snakes,
kango's stein massive,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Cramps,
T.S.O.L.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dead Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
Harry Pussy,
The Knickerbockers,
Audionom,
Public Enemy,
Kaleidoscope,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Bananas,
The Associates,
Man Parrish,
Isaac Hayes,
Arab on Radar,
Dennis Brown,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Index,
Boz Scaggs,
Liliput,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bush Tetras,
Colin Newman,
Roxy Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Qualms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
K-Klass,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Misunderstood,
The Fall,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Normal,
Connie Case,
Peter and Kerry,
Kas Product,
Andrew Hill,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Man Eating Sloth,
Franke,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.