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 Georgia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Michael McDonald 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 Surgeon to the dance 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Faraquet,
Porter Ricks,
The Angels of Light,
Franke,
The Skatalites,
Make Up,
LL Cool J,
U.S. Maple,
8 Eyed Spy,
Prince Buster,
Rapeman,
Malaria!,
Surgeon,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tomorrow,
The Gladiators,
Alphaville,
Roxette,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sugar Minott,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mary Jane Girls,
Connie Case,
The Saints,
Sonic Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Sound Behaviour,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Last Poets,
Liliput,
Nation of Ulysses,
Q and Not U,
Theoretical Girls,
Infiniti,
10cc,
The Star Department,
Barbara Tucker,
Dark Day,
Von Mondo,
Boz Scaggs,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Foxx,
The Young Rascals,
Suicide,
The Walker Brothers,
Terry Callier,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Green,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cymande,
R.M.O.,
Bill Wells,
The Barracudas,
Procol Harum,
FM Einheit,
World's Most,
Q65,
The Count Five,
Pole,
Brick,
Section 25,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.