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 Angola and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Sandy B,
Black Pus,
Toni Rubio,
The Beau Brummels,
Model 500,
Supertramp,
Faust,
Bill Near,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The United States of America,
Pylon,
Minutemen,
Judy Mowatt,
Stiv Bators,
Prince Buster,
Skarface,
Jeru the Damaja,
Derrick May,
Tears for Fears,
John Lydon,
Lyres,
kango's stein massive,
Chris & Cosey,
James White and The Blacks,
New Age Steppers,
Grey Daturas,
The Dead C,
The Neon Judgement,
Unrelated Segments,
Hasil Adkins,
The Walker Brothers,
Can,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sister Nancy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun Ra,
Trumans Water,
48th St. Collective,
Soul Sonic Force,
Stereo Dub,
Negative Approach,
Girls At Our Best!,
Schoolly D,
Crooked Eye,
Sarah Menescal,
Saccharine Trust,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Skatalites,
the Normal,
Joensuu 1685,
The Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
One Last Wish,
Liliput,
Mission of Burma,
Yusef Lateef,
Terry Callier,
Fatback Band,
Yellowson,
The Golliwogs,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.