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 Saudi Arabia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Sam Rivers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Offenders,
Janne Schatter,
Connie Case,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobby Byrd,
John Cale,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Leaves,
The Toasters,
Robert Hood,
The Dirtbombs,
David McCallum,
Quadrant,
Brass Construction,
the Germs,
Pussy Galore,
Parry Music,
Joy Division,
Agitation Free,
Quando Quango,
Joyce Sims,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Skaos,
Neu!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Patti Smith,
Faraquet,
Spoonie Gee,
Tubeway Army,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mojo Men,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harmonia,
Bad Manners,
Andrew Hill,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Remains,
Matthew Bourne,
X-101,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gories,
Crash Course in Science,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
the Swans,
Letta Mbulu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Subhumans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cluster,
The Zeros,
Sex Pistols,
Black Sheep,
Chrome,
Radiopuhelimet,
Anakelly,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stiv Bators,
Lightning Bolt,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.