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 St Lucia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 808 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the jazz 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sandy B,
48th St. Collective,
Amon Düül II,
Subhumans,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Litter,
Pulsallama,
Janne Schatter,
Eric B and Rakim,
Procol Harum,
One Last Wish,
Bill Wells,
The Misunderstood,
Hoover,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Franke,
Qualms,
Fatback Band,
Sight & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
KRS-One,
Drexciya,
MC5,
Susan Cadogan,
Metal Thangz,
Letta Mbulu,
Ice-T,
Barrington Levy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Donald Byrd,
Essential Logic,
The Gladiators,
Joensuu 1685,
Lou Reed,
Nik Kershaw,
Nils Olav,
The Evens,
Altered Images,
The Music Machine,
Clear Light,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tres Demented,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Basic Channel,
John Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Country Teasers,
Lungfish,
Minor Threat,
L. Decosne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultravox,
Sun City Girls,
F. McDonald,
Delta 5,
The Human League,
Tomorrow,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.