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 Antigua and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 Inner City to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
June Days,
Supertramp,
U.S. Maple,
Stetsasonic,
Joensuu 1685,
10cc,
The Trojans,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deakin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Derrick Morgan,
Rakim,
Hasil Adkins,
The J.B.'s,
DJ Sneak,
The Blues Magoos,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eli Mardock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Neil Young,
Slave,
Bang On A Can,
The Gap Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Dead Boys,
The New Christs,
The Dead C,
Amon Düül II,
Simply Red,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ten City,
Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Blancmange,
Patti Smith,
Guru Guru,
Mission of Burma,
Cameo,
The Busters,
Masters at Work,
Nils Olav,
John Lydon,
Loose Ends,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nas,
Camouflage,
Accadde A,
Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
Letta Mbulu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ponytail,
Michelle Simonal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barry Ungar,
Inner City,
Idris Muhammad,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.