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 Tonga and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bobby Byrd to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Main Source,
Davy DMX,
Gang Green,
Pere Ubu,
The Zeros,
Roxy Music,
Don Cherry,
Faraquet,
Crispy Ambulance,
Danielle Patucci,
Aswad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gong,
Talk Talk,
Deakin,
Minnie Riperton,
Moby Grape,
CMW,
Aaron Thompson,
Slick Rick,
Ronnie Foster,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Basic Channel,
Altered Images,
Morten Harket,
The Fortunes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spandau Ballet,
Sight & Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
June Days,
Deadbeat,
Byron Stingily,
The Fuzztones,
Kaleidoscope,
10cc,
Livin' Joy,
World's Most,
Soul Sonic Force,
June of 44,
Nico,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultra Naté,
Hot Snakes,
Lyres,
Pussy Galore,
Gerry Rafferty,
F. McDonald,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Desert Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aloha Tigers,
Marine Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Camberwell Now,
The Sound,
Second Layer,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.