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 Djibouti and from Toronto.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Country Teasers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Scan 7,
Boogie Down Productions,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Archie Shepp,
Nik Kershaw,
Bill Near,
Procol Harum,
DJ Style,
Maurizio,
Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Public Image Ltd.,
Letta Mbulu,
Aloha Tigers,
David Bowie,
Television,
Prince Buster,
Tres Demented,
The Leaves,
Can,
Ponytail,
Black Pus,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pantytec,
Slave,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lungfish,
F. McDonald,
Skaos,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Patti Smith,
Jacques Brel,
Blake Baxter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Livin' Joy,
Quantec,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New Age Steppers,
Cal Tjader,
Johnny Osbourne,
These Immortal Souls,
Wire,
Marmalade,
Joey Negro,
Spandau Ballet,
Morten Harket,
Girls At Our Best!,
Traffic Nightmare,
Toni Rubio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Robert Görl,
Cymande,
Dual Sessions,
The Moleskins,
Audionom,
John Lydon,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.