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 Ethiopia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Don Cherry,
Technova,
Glenn Branca,
Oblivians,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yusef Lateef,
Ronnie Foster,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Near,
T.S.O.L.,
Dennis Brown,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dead C,
Gang Starr,
John Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ornette Coleman,
Skaos,
Isaac Hayes,
The Gap Band,
ABC,
Deadbeat,
Neu!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tres Demented,
The American Breed,
Soft Machine,
L. Decosne,
Ronan,
D'Angelo,
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
Todd Terry,
Boz Scaggs,
Reagan Youth,
Cameo,
Camberwell Now,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Womack,
Grauzone,
ABBA,
Sex Pistols,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Saints,
MC5,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Roger Hodgson,
the Human League,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-102,
The Fire Engines,
Liliput,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.