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 Comoros and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Cameo to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Don Cherry,
Charles Mingus,
The Victims,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Invisible,
Piero Umiliani,
Sam Rivers,
The Real Kids,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
The Searchers,
Ronnie Foster,
The Motions,
The United States of America,
New York Dolls,
Idris Muhammad,
The Stooges,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pantaleimon,
Essential Logic,
Joe Finger,
Jacques Brel,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dave Clark Five,
Negative Approach,
Das Ding,
ABBA,
Ornette Coleman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Subhumans,
Harry Pussy,
New Order,
Jeff Mills,
Hot Snakes,
The Mojo Men,
Porter Ricks,
X-102,
Flash Fearless,
Nico,
Danielle Patucci,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight,
The Neon Judgement,
Barry Ungar,
the Germs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Terry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joy Division,
Average White Band,
Pussy Galore,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.