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 Swaziland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Marcia Griffiths to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
the Bar-Kays,
Main Source,
The Divine Comedy,
Mr. Review,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Neon Judgement,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sugar Minott,
Pagans,
Pulsallama,
Robert Wyatt,
Brothers Johnson,
The Trojans,
The Blues Magoos,
The J.B.'s,
The Durutti Column,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rapeman,
James White and The Blacks,
The Offenders,
Livin' Joy,
The Kinks,
Carl Craig,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Style,
Faraquet,
Desert Stars,
Rakim,
Sight & Sound,
Intrusion,
The New Christs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Aswad,
The Associates,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Raincoats,
The Detroit Cobras,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Franke,
Masters at Work,
Scrapy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stereo Dub,
The Modern Lovers,
Matthew Bourne,
F. McDonald,
Absolute Body Control,
Archie Shepp,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacob Miller,
Arab on Radar,
Nico,
The Invisible,
Cheater Slicks,
Dave Gahan,
Monks,
Joy Division,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crispian St. Peters,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.