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 Botswana and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rhythm & Sound to the rap 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wire,
The Skatalites,
Depeche Mode,
The Buckinghams,
Sexual Harrassment,
Terry Callier,
Rapeman,
Thee Headcoats,
Yusef Lateef,
Rotary Connection,
Buzzcocks,
Q and Not U,
Minor Threat,
Japan,
Sixth Finger,
Yellowson,
Sarah Menescal,
T.S.O.L.,
Jacob Miller,
The American Breed,
Carl Craig,
Gang of Four,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Procol Harum,
Dual Sessions,
China Crisis,
the Germs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Star Department,
Lalann,
Kurtis Blow,
Fat Boys,
Visage,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Ten City,
Shoche,
The Mojo Men,
The Zeros,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Music Machine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wings,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arcadia,
Reagan Youth,
Alphaville,
Susan Cadogan,
Soft Cell,
H. Thieme,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blake Baxter,
Flash Fearless,
CMW,
Bill Wells,
The Trojans,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.