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 Iran and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Cowsills to the funk 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Massinfluence record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Kinks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Star Department,
Ronan,
John Coltrane,
The Selecter,
Oblivians,
Prince Buster,
Popol Vuh,
Quadrant,
These Immortal Souls,
Au Pairs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Supertramp,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
The Zeros,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ice-T,
Los Fastidios,
Matthew Halsall,
ABBA,
The Last Poets,
Grey Daturas,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quantec,
Jacob Miller,
Pylon,
Vainqueur,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ornette Coleman,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eurythmics,
Terry Callier,
Loose Ends,
R.M.O.,
Lungfish,
Make Up,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Fire Engines,
The Sonics,
Yellowson,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang of Four,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
UT,
Jawbox,
Rites of Spring,
Vladislav Delay,
Drexciya,
Pussy Galore,
Crash Course in Science,
Royal Trux,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Robert Hood,
Interpol,
Be Bop Deluxe,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.