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 Chile and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Slick Rick to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson 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?
Zapp,
Sound Behaviour,
Malaria!,
Tim Buckley,
Cymande,
Max Romeo,
Parry Music,
OOIOO,
Henry Cow,
Angry Samoans,
Fela Kuti,
Joensuu 1685,
Von Mondo,
Derrick May,
D'Angelo,
Maleditus Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Severed Heads,
Young Marble Giants,
Agitation Free,
Oneida,
Black Pus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Lydon,
Sixth Finger,
Easy Going,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wings,
Average White Band,
Sällskapet,
Grey Daturas,
The Fall,
Eden Ahbez,
The Walker Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T.S.O.L.,
Anakelly,
Monolake,
Dennis Brown,
Interpol,
Audionom,
Barrington Levy,
Bill Near,
Mark Hollis,
The Fugs,
Laurel Aitken,
Procol Harum,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aural Exciters,
Shuggie Otis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joey Negro,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Archie Shepp,
Circle Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Pole,
Thee Headcoats,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Underground Resistance,
Byron Stingily,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.