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 United Kingdom and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet 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 Man Eating Sloth to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Graham Central Station,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scott Walker,
John Lydon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marc Almond,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Five Americans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Happenings,
Agitation Free,
Wasted Youth,
Soul II Soul,
The Monochrome Set,
Nirvana,
Lucky Dragons,
Cameo,
June of 44,
June Days,
Amazonics,
Slave,
Dual Sessions,
The Cramps,
The Black Dice,
This Heat,
New Age Steppers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Television Personalities,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
The Tremeloes,
The Grass Roots,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sister Nancy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roxette,
Sun Ra,
Brass Construction,
Youth Brigade,
F. McDonald,
The Slackers,
Whodini,
Clear Light,
Aaron Thompson,
EPMD,
Depeche Mode,
B.T. Express,
Sandy B,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Circle Jerks,
The Evens,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Flamin' Groovies,
The J.B.'s,
Zapp,
The Cure,
Porter Ricks,
Smog,
Khruangbin,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.