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 Qatar and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 ABC to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Curtis Mayfield,
DJ Style,
Young Marble Giants,
Oneida,
Steve Hackett,
Little Man,
Roxy Music,
B.T. Express,
The Sound,
Quadrant,
Goldenarms,
Jacques Brel,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Gap Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skriet,
Duran Duran,
F. McDonald,
Jeff Mills,
Eve St. Jones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultra Naté,
Leonard Cohen,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Panda Bear,
Technova,
Spoonie Gee,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Livin' Joy,
Cymande,
John Lydon,
Reuben Wilson,
Anthony Braxton,
Scion,
Brand Nubian,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Offenders,
Ponytail,
The J.B.'s,
Franke,
Mo-Dettes,
The Barracudas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Public Image Ltd.,
Aaron Thompson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Matthew Bourne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Prince Buster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Television Personalities,
Pagans,
Kurtis Blow,
Rotary Connection,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.