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 Iran and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Crooked Eye to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Black Pus,
Pere Ubu,
Eurythmics,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Liliput,
Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Half Japanese,
Angry Samoans,
X-102,
Arcadia,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Anakelly,
Harry Pussy,
Prince Buster,
Television Personalities,
Negative Approach,
Funky Four + One,
Eddi Front,
Roxy Music,
Faraquet,
Marc Almond,
The Walker Brothers,
Wings,
Janne Schatter,
Freddie Wadling,
Average White Band,
The Trojans,
Cecil Taylor,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Angels of Light,
Pylon,
Wally Richardson,
Accadde A,
The Pretty Things,
Bob Dylan,
Lower 48,
Heaven 17,
The Fire Engines,
Clear Light,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gladiators,
Wolf Eyes,
The Martian,
Suicide,
Rapeman,
The Beau Brummels,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Godley & Creme,
Scrapy,
The Invisible,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tears for Fears,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Yazoo,
Agent Orange,
Ten City,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.