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 Lesotho and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 Gang Starr to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ken Boothe,
Angry Samoans,
Rhythm & Sound,
FM Einheit,
Hoover,
EPMD,
Pussy Galore,
Jimmy McGriff,
Saccharine Trust,
Sun City Girls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Cowsills,
Alton Ellis,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Guru Guru,
the Human League,
Infiniti,
Radiopuhelimet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Sonics,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Swans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fugs,
Shoche,
This Heat,
New Order,
Marine Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Bad Manners,
Intrusion,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Icehouse,
Robert Wyatt,
Minutemen,
Bronski Beat,
Henry Cow,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pagans,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bootsy Collins,
Jeff Lynne,
John Lydon,
Fad Gadget,
Rites of Spring,
The Saints,
The Fuzztones,
The Techniques,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kayak,
Morten Harket,
Junior Murvin,
Q and Not U,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.