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 Bangladesh and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
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 Crispy Ambulance to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
KRS-One,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amazonics,
Sound Behaviour,
James White and The Blacks,
The Offenders,
The Last Poets,
Terry Callier,
Moss Icon,
Yazoo,
Talk Talk,
Mr. Review,
Fugazi,
Al Stewart,
Joe Smooth,
The Slackers,
Sparks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Brass Construction,
Gil Scott Heron,
Procol Harum,
Newcleus,
The Litter,
Fatback Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tropical Tobacco,
8 Eyed Spy,
Steve Hackett,
Frankie Knuckles,
Juan Atkins,
David Bowie,
Joyce Sims,
Cal Tjader,
Skarface,
Fluxion,
Von Mondo,
The Golliwogs,
The Angels of Light,
Suicide,
Bluetip,
The Slits,
Television Personalities,
Jacques Brel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Qualms,
Darondo,
Kurtis Blow,
Visage,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Shadows of Knight,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül,
Warsaw,
Reagan Youth,
Essential Logic,
Echospace,
Idris Muhammad,
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.