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 Comoros and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Slave to the punk 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Outsiders,
The Raincoats,
Oblivians,
Bizarre Inc.,
Adolescents,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reagan Youth,
The Durutti Column,
In Retrospect,
Magma,
Radiohead,
Underground Resistance,
New Order,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Matthew Halsall,
Lyres,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Maurizio,
The Golliwogs,
Audionom,
Smog,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bronski Beat,
Public Enemy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Albert Ayler,
The Doors,
The Toasters,
Aaron Thompson,
Easy Going,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang of Four,
The Angels of Light,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kayak,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Harmonia,
Arab on Radar,
Wire,
Susan Cadogan,
Warren Ellis,
Yellowson,
EPMD,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Minor Threat,
Khruangbin,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Essential Logic,
Gong,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tubeway Army,
The Star Department,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.