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 Comoros and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer 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 CMW to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Royal Trux,
Iggy Pop,
Sam Rivers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
In Retrospect,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rufus Thomas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric Dolphy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Simply Red,
Half Japanese,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Five Americans,
The Names,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Durutti Column,
Banda Bassotti,
Joe Finger,
Black Flag,
Howard Jones,
The Move,
The Sound,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
the Soft Cell,
Radiohead,
Sound Behaviour,
Don Cherry,
Steve Hackett,
the Swans,
Graham Central Station,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Quadrant,
Reuben Wilson,
Max Romeo,
Sister Nancy,
Jawbox,
Massinfluence,
Mandrill,
Heaven 17,
Grey Daturas,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Wake,
The Busters,
the Slits,
Mo-Dettes,
Intrusion,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Little Man,
Connie Case,
Lee Hazlewood,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lalann,
Pantytec,
John Coltrane,
Mark Hollis,
The Zeros,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zero Boys,
Zapp,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.