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 Uzbekistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 Rites of Spring to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Rapeman,
Sound Behaviour,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Unwound,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K,
Pierre Henry,
Boredoms,
The Invisible,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
Brand Nubian,
Flipper,
Silicon Teens,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mummies,
Darondo,
Swans,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
Dual Sessions,
Accadde A,
Sällskapet,
The Walker Brothers,
CMW,
Pantaleimon,
Tears for Fears,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swell Maps,
a-ha,
Gichy Dan,
Intrusion,
Hardrive,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Lynne,
X-101,
The Toasters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tres Demented,
The Angels of Light,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pulsallama,
T. Rex,
The Gun Club,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Evens,
Ken Boothe,
Aloha Tigers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Excepter,
The Beau Brummels,
Wasted Youth,
The Busters,
Nico,
The Blackbyrds,
Lyres,
X-102,
Mr. Review,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.