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 Costa Rica and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Moody Blues 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gregory Isaacs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joensuu 1685,
Desert Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Technova,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Steve Hackett,
Dual Sessions,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
Gong,
Scan 7,
Los Fastidios,
Livin' Joy,
ABBA,
DJ Style,
Nas,
Pole,
John Holt,
Fugazi,
Guru Guru,
Tubeway Army,
the Slits,
The Electric Prunes,
Fat Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Scion,
The Zeros,
Mo-Dettes,
Inner City,
X-102,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald,
The Remains,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smiths,
EPMD,
Swell Maps,
Mark Hollis,
Smog,
The Cowsills,
Howard Jones,
Sparks,
Television,
Chris & Cosey,
Yusef Lateef,
Warsaw,
KRS-One,
Charles Mingus,
Buzzcocks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang On A Can,
Harmonia,
The Fuzztones,
Pussy Galore,
Marvin Gaye,
Janne Schatter,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.