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 Liberia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Porter Ricks to the rap 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Judy Mowatt,
Brick,
Sex Pistols,
Bluetip,
Slave,
David McCallum,
Peter & Gordon,
Q and Not U,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Searchers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sugar Minott,
L. Decosne,
Joey Negro,
Liliput,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sun City Girls,
Fatback Band,
The Sonics,
Freddie Wadling,
Flamin' Groovies,
Make Up,
China Crisis,
Depeche Mode,
UT,
Derrick May,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Unrelated Segments,
Pierre Henry,
Henry Cow,
Pole,
Black Flag,
Agent Orange,
The Divine Comedy,
The Electric Prunes,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Spandau Ballet,
Delon & Dalcan,
CMW,
Surgeon,
In Retrospect,
Schoolly D,
Joyce Sims,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bauhaus,
Country Teasers,
The Beau Brummels,
Chris Corsano,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
EPMD,
The Pretty Things,
Second Layer,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The American Breed,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.