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 Oman and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Misunderstood to the disco 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
The Slackers,
The Smiths,
Subhumans,
The Five Americans,
Agent Orange,
The Velvet Underground,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kurtis Blow,
The Tremeloes,
The Litter,
Ken Boothe,
Gerry Rafferty,
Anthony Braxton,
The Moleskins,
Tim Buckley,
Ultra Naté,
Scan 7,
Fela Kuti,
Fatback Band,
The Names,
U.S. Maple,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
T.S.O.L.,
Wasted Youth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skriet,
Alton Ellis,
Absolute Body Control,
Fugazi,
Goldenarms,
The Happenings,
Angry Samoans,
Panda Bear,
Excepter,
Maurizio,
Gabor Szabo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quantec,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gichy Dan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nik Kershaw,
Suicide,
Dual Sessions,
Q65,
Warsaw,
The Associates,
Das Ding,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fall,
Crispy Ambulance,
Porter Ricks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fear,
Radio Birdman,
The Searchers,
Urselle,
John Foxx,
Gang Starr,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.