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 Tunisia and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin 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 The Saints to the punk 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Gang Green,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soft Cell,
Junior Murvin,
Duran Duran,
Clear Light,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Don Cherry,
Trumans Water,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lyres,
The Names,
MC5,
The Victims,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
Letta Mbulu,
Sound Behaviour,
Animal Collective,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Toni Rubio,
Kayak,
Lalo Schifrin,
Y Pants,
The Red Krayola,
Johnny Clarke,
Public Enemy,
Aural Exciters,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Ohio Players,
Popol Vuh,
JFA,
Aloha Tigers,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Skatalites,
Reuben Wilson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Vainqueur,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Technova,
Barclay James Harvest,
a-ha,
Barry Ungar,
John Lydon,
Buzzcocks,
The Invisible,
Robert Hood,
Von Mondo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Freddie Wadling,
The Sonics,
Slave,
Pylon,
Yusef Lateef,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.