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 Togo and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Roger Hodgson to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
The Sound,
the Sonics,
Godley & Creme,
Crime,
Matthew Halsall,
John Foxx,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Offenders,
Scan 7,
The American Breed,
the Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
KRS-One,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Crispy Ambulance,
8 Eyed Spy,
Graham Central Station,
D'Angelo,
Lightning Bolt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Red Krayola,
Albert Ayler,
Alton Ellis,
China Crisis,
The Happenings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Green,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
June of 44,
Oblivians,
Nick Fraelich,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
B.T. Express,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wire,
Dual Sessions,
The Buckinghams,
Fat Boys,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Dave Gahan,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Scientists,
Bang On A Can,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
Hashim,
Sarah Menescal,
Soul II Soul,
Surgeon,
Icehouse,
The Sonics,
Yaz,
Reagan Youth,
DJ Style,
Charles Mingus,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.