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 Lesotho and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
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 harpsichord 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 Quantec to the dance 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Avey Tare,
Stetsasonic,
Todd Rundgren,
the Normal,
The Music Machine,
Black Sheep,
Graham Central Station,
The Mummies,
The Tremeloes,
Gang Starr,
Mantronix,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Clarke,
Technova,
Kas Product,
X-102,
Sarah Menescal,
Nils Olav,
Traffic Nightmare,
Metal Thangz,
Howard Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
Y Pants,
Sparks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Electric Prunes,
Index,
Pantytec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skriet,
Ten City,
Little Man,
Basic Channel,
Kurtis Blow,
Bad Manners,
Oblivians,
Eddi Front,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fugazi,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fuzztones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Happenings,
Altered Images,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Holt,
The Barracudas,
The Gun Club,
The Slits,
Hashim,
James White and The Blacks,
Arcadia,
Blossom Toes,
Vainqueur,
Frankie Knuckles,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Marc Almond,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.