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 Denmark and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alphaville to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
The Gories,
Deadbeat,
Main Source,
Make Up,
Fatback Band,
Scratch Acid,
Lower 48,
Oneida,
Faraquet,
Barry Ungar,
The Selecter,
Bobby Sherman,
The Tremeloes,
Flash Fearless,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oblivians,
The Fuzztones,
The Dead C,
The Alarm Clocks,
Subhumans,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fugs,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Slackers,
10cc,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Q65,
Tommy Roe,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Surgeon,
Donny Hathaway,
Al Stewart,
Lou Christie,
Rites of Spring,
the Soft Cell,
New Order,
Von Mondo,
Eric Dolphy,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Flag,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sight & Sound,
Mad Mike,
The Count Five,
Hoover,
Index,
Shuggie Otis,
Harry Pussy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Searchers,
Slick Rick,
Cheater Slicks,
Parry Music,
Reagan Youth,
Henry Cow,
Alton Ellis,
Kas Product,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.