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 Lesotho and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Mantronix,
Sällskapet,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gladiators,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Barracudas,
JFA,
Todd Terry,
Marine Girls,
Tres Demented,
The Velvet Underground,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
Leonard Cohen,
New York Dolls,
Scott Walker,
The Human League,
Silicon Teens,
ABBA,
Harmonia,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Derrick May,
Circle Jerks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sam Rivers,
Porter Ricks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Smoke,
Tears for Fears,
The Litter,
the Swans,
Warsaw,
Sandy B,
Jeff Lynne,
Al Stewart,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dead Boys,
Piero Umiliani,
The Move,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Trumans Water,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thee Headcoats,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fugs,
Bootsy Collins,
Con Funk Shun,
Althea and Donna,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sun City Girls,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.