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 Angola and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe 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 Golliwogs to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kurtis Blow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Patti Smith,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Byrd,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Arthur Verocai,
10cc,
Young Marble Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
The Human League,
Suicide,
Michelle Simonal,
Monolake,
Hardrive,
Wings,
Minutemen,
Marvin Gaye,
The Divine Comedy,
Roxette,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cymande,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Royal Trux,
Funky Four + One,
Crooked Eye,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Zapp,
Banda Bassotti,
Vainqueur,
Absolute Body Control,
The Sound,
Mission of Burma,
Echospace,
Arcadia,
The Evens,
Ornette Coleman,
Kenny Larkin,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Bar-Kays,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rotary Connection,
Ultra Naté,
Susan Cadogan,
Sixth Finger,
The Wake,
Ralphi Rosario,
Drexciya,
Fluxion,
Flash Fearless,
Goldenarms,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lindisfarne,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
Interpol,
Fatback Band,
Marc Almond,
Yellowson,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.