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 Nepal and from Lagos.
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 Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 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 Public Enemy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Skarface,
Lungfish,
Agent Orange,
Rod Modell,
Shoche,
The Human League,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joy Division,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Last Poets,
Barry Ungar,
The Young Rascals,
Deepchord,
Scrapy,
48th St. Collective,
Ken Boothe,
AZ,
Unwound,
Jacob Miller,
Kenny Larkin,
Sällskapet,
The Sound,
Essential Logic,
Bizarre Inc.,
Henry Cow,
Panda Bear,
Easy Going,
One Last Wish,
Au Pairs,
The Selecter,
Alice Coltrane,
Delta 5,
Graham Central Station,
Stereo Dub,
E-Dancer,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Womack,
Hot Snakes,
a-ha,
Nas,
Japan,
the Bar-Kays,
Public Enemy,
Marine Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
The Techniques,
Guru Guru,
Buzzcocks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Happenings,
Lyres,
Los Fastidios,
Q and Not U,
Isaac Hayes,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.