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 Barbados and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 The Wake to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Unrelated Segments,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
DJ Style,
Darondo,
Pagans,
Drexciya,
Warren Ellis,
The Buckinghams,
The Fortunes,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Stooges,
The Mojo Men,
Mandrill,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cramps,
Talk Talk,
Wolf Eyes,
Con Funk Shun,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Blossom Toes,
Flamin' Groovies,
New York Dolls,
June Days,
Marc Almond,
The Gun Club,
Fela Kuti,
Infiniti,
The Last Poets,
Curtis Mayfield,
Masters at Work,
Pole,
Al Stewart,
The Count Five,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
Moby Grape,
Buzzcocks,
Dave Gahan,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wings,
Echospace,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gladiators,
Tom Boy,
Letta Mbulu,
Prince Buster,
Ralphi Rosario,
Oblivians,
Juan Atkins,
World's Most,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Lydon,
Faust,
Donny Hathaway,
Jacques Brel,
Sight & Sound,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kayak,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.