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 Luxembourg and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Lou Reed 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the rap 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The Golliwogs,
Thompson Twins,
Suicide,
The Remains,
Moebius,
Charles Mingus,
X-Ray Spex,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Pus,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ken Boothe,
Amon Düül,
Masters at Work,
Andrew Hill,
Cheater Slicks,
Sex Pistols,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television Personalities,
Jacob Miller,
Livin' Joy,
Rekid,
Danielle Patucci,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rapeman,
Yusef Lateef,
Dark Day,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Depeche Mode,
Zero Boys,
The Gladiators,
The Index,
EPMD,
ABC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blossom Toes,
Alphaville,
Thee Headcoats,
Surgeon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry's Kids,
The Stooges,
Minutemen,
Pussy Galore,
Basic Channel,
Eddi Front,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.