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 Ghana and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 theremin 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 Howard Jones to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
The Wake,
Subhumans,
The Gladiators,
Man Parrish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chrome,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scion,
Grey Daturas,
Deepchord,
Laurel Aitken,
The Selecter,
Unwound,
Dawn Penn,
Second Layer,
Vainqueur,
The Cramps,
Jeff Lynne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Guru Guru,
Bill Near,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Green,
Jandek,
David Axelrod,
Hot Snakes,
June Days,
Harmonia,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eddi Front,
Mars,
ABBA,
In Retrospect,
The Associates,
The Happenings,
The Dead C,
The Invisible,
Pussy Galore,
Ituana,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
EPMD,
Don Cherry,
Johnny Clarke,
the Soft Cell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bobby Byrd,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
a-ha,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kas Product,
The Mummies,
Half Japanese,
Stereo Dub,
Magazine,
Gang of Four,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soulsonic Force,
Thee Headcoats,
Isaac Hayes,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.