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 Malta 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 L. Decosne to the dance 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Moebius,
Average White Band,
Harry Pussy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Severed Heads,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lalann,
Procol Harum,
Idris Muhammad,
Shuggie Otis,
Ituana,
Rites of Spring,
The Star Department,
Bauhaus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
The Velvet Underground,
Rhythm & Sound,
Slave,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deepchord,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dennis Brown,
Piero Umiliani,
Shoche,
The Buckinghams,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Names,
Bluetip,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Dolphy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sparks,
Yellowson,
The Cramps,
Boredoms,
Tears for Fears,
Black Flag,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Drexciya,
F. McDonald,
Mantronix,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultra Naté,
World's Most,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joe Finger,
Sandy B,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Doors,
Swans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pop Group,
Brothers Johnson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mandrill,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Human League,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.