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 Slovakia and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Thee Headcoats 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marine Girls,
Royal Trux,
The Last Poets,
The Leaves,
Bobby Byrd,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
K-Klass,
Con Funk Shun,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang of Four,
Deakin,
The Toasters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The United States of America,
The Fuzztones,
Technova,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Oblivians,
The Cramps,
Joy Division,
Blancmange,
DNA,
Rufus Thomas,
Cluster,
The Seeds,
Joyce Sims,
Kas Product,
Agent Orange,
Janne Schatter,
The Slackers,
Brothers Johnson,
Yusef Lateef,
Thee Headcoats,
Stetsasonic,
Slick Rick,
Black Pus,
Althea and Donna,
Warren Ellis,
Junior Murvin,
The Move,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fall,
Amon Düül II,
The Saints,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gang Starr,
Flipper,
The Mummies,
Average White Band,
X-101,
This Heat,
Eli Mardock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.