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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cymande to the punk 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Make Up,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marvin Gaye,
Chris & Cosey,
Slave,
Crooked Eye,
The Walker Brothers,
Lalann,
The Human League,
Soul Sonic Force,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Smoke,
The Techniques,
Deepchord,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
David Axelrod,
Al Stewart,
Colin Newman,
Tears for Fears,
Ponytail,
Au Pairs,
Ohio Players,
Sällskapet,
Maurizio,
David Bowie,
Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
the Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Warsaw,
Barry Ungar,
Pole,
Minnie Riperton,
Alison Limerick,
Roger Hodgson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Roxette,
Laurel Aitken,
Chris Corsano,
Gang Green,
Girls At Our Best!,
MDC,
Kas Product,
The American Breed,
kango's stein massive,
The Birthday Party,
Lightning Bolt,
Gabor Szabo,
Pagans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
the Germs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.