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 Argentina and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Toronto.
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 güiro 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 Black Dice to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Letta Mbulu,
Inner City,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
Brothers Johnson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Heaven 17,
the Germs,
Aural Exciters,
Yazoo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dead C,
Visage,
Sun Ra,
Desert Stars,
Crash Course in Science,
Icehouse,
The Electric Prunes,
the Soft Cell,
Qualms,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Stooges,
Skarface,
B.T. Express,
Grandmaster Flash,
Flash Fearless,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lucky Dragons,
Judy Mowatt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Main Source,
Carl Craig,
Alice Coltrane,
Kevin Saunderson,
X-Ray Spex,
The Martian,
Hoover,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Y Pants,
John Lydon,
John Foxx,
Camouflage,
New Age Steppers,
The Victims,
The Dirtbombs,
Groovy Waters,
The Moody Blues,
Mars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Parry Music,
David Bowie,
Faraquet,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pere Ubu,
Radiohead,
Traffic Nightmare,
Franke,
Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions.
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.