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 Korea North and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet 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 Angry Samoans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
The United States of America,
Von Mondo,
Moby Grape,
Sällskapet,
DJ Sneak,
The Remains,
F. McDonald,
The Moleskins,
Intrusion,
Wasted Youth,
Deepchord,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Motions,
Index,
The Doobie Brothers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Moss Icon,
Brothers Johnson,
Skriet,
Second Layer,
June of 44,
Prince Buster,
Joe Finger,
Arthur Verocai,
Magma,
Sister Nancy,
Cybotron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
FM Einheit,
Mantronix,
Erykah Badu,
Nas,
Vladislav Delay,
The Count Five,
Monks,
The Wake,
The Happenings,
Lalann,
James White and The Blacks,
Ten City,
Television Personalities,
Franke,
Agitation Free,
Josef K,
Rites of Spring,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pussy Galore,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heaven 17,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soft Cell,
Oblivians,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
Surgeon,
Sugar Minott,
Arab on Radar,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.