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 San Marino and from Bremen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radio Birdman,
Electric Prunes,
Nas,
Minny Pops,
Soft Machine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fuzztones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kaleidoscope,
Don Cherry,
Nik Kershaw,
John Foxx,
Infiniti,
Index,
Warsaw,
Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Victims,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zero Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eric Dolphy,
Terry Callier,
The Music Machine,
Mandrill,
The Cramps,
ABC,
Chrome,
The Remains,
Pulsallama,
Altered Images,
The New Christs,
The Star Department,
Eurythmics,
Neu!,
Lindisfarne,
F. McDonald,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dave Gahan,
Goldenarms,
Reuben Wilson,
Peter & Gordon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Toni Rubio,
The Grass Roots,
Donny Hathaway,
MC5,
Surgeon,
The Doors,
Dorothy Ashby,
June Days,
Black Moon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mars,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.