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 Sri Lanka and from Glasgow.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 F. McDonald to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy 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?
the Human League,
Pylon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Associates,
Dorothy Ashby,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
B.T. Express,
Big Daddy Kane,
ABC,
Johnny Clarke,
Bad Manners,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Bananas,
Goldenarms,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
The Saints,
Warsaw,
Sam Rivers,
The Remains,
Khruangbin,
The Walker Brothers,
Amon Düül,
The Standells,
Bauhaus,
Desert Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swell Maps,
The Count Five,
Fatback Band,
Sugar Minott,
Pole,
Unrelated Segments,
Kenny Larkin,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Bob Dylan,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Vogues,
New Order,
Laurel Aitken,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Niagra,
Peter and Kerry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deadbeat,
Gang Gang Dance,
This Heat,
Joyce Sims,
The Human League,
Country Teasers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rites of Spring,
Scientists,
The Invisible,
Livin' Joy,
Franke,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.