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 Botswana and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Skaos 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crime,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Techniques,
Sound Behaviour,
Wasted Youth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bill Near,
Fear,
One Last Wish,
The Walker Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roxette,
The Birthday Party,
Lungfish,
Donny Hathaway,
Smog,
Johnny Osbourne,
Urselle,
ABBA,
Audionom,
Pere Ubu,
the Soft Cell,
Khruangbin,
Desert Stars,
Amon Düül,
The Cowsills,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Busters,
F. McDonald,
Gang Green,
Moss Icon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Royal Trux,
June of 44,
Marc Almond,
Jesper Dahlback,
Robert Hood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Althea and Donna,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Litter,
Charles Mingus,
Minny Pops,
John Coltrane,
The Sonics,
ABC,
the Human League,
The Golliwogs,
Morten Harket,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Anakelly,
Grauzone,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.