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 Montenegro 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Metal Thangz to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Sherman,
Stetsasonic,
Half Japanese,
Althea and Donna,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Martian,
The Barracudas,
Cybotron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moby Grape,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hasil Adkins,
Joyce Sims,
Crispian St. Peters,
H. Thieme,
Colin Newman,
Brass Construction,
The Skatalites,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Buckinghams,
The Slackers,
Roy Ayers,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pulsallama,
Saccharine Trust,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bush Tetras,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Smiths,
The American Breed,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Pop Group,
Nik Kershaw,
Scan 7,
The Zeros,
Michelle Simonal,
Skriet,
Oneida,
Ornette Coleman,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Alphaville,
the Soft Cell,
Zapp,
Terrestrial Tones,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Junior Murvin,
Ludus,
MC5,
D'Angelo,
Jeff Lynne,
Blake Baxter,
Derrick Morgan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doobie Brothers,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.