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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Jeru the Damaja to the rock 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
T.S.O.L.,
Kayak,
Los Fastidios,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cheater Slicks,
Pylon,
The Count Five,
Alphaville,
the Human League,
Jeru the Damaja,
H. Thieme,
Mr. Review,
The Residents,
The Fortunes,
Stereo Dub,
Camouflage,
The Fire Engines,
The Sound,
R.M.O.,
Blake Baxter,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Pop Group,
Ice-T,
Japan,
Supertramp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Moss Icon,
MDC,
Buzzcocks,
The Remains,
Boogie Down Productions,
Con Funk Shun,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ludus,
The Monks,
Skaos,
Lalo Schifrin,
Blossom Toes,
Crime,
Unwound,
Scan 7,
FM Einheit,
Letta Mbulu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Maurizio,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nick Fraelich,
OOIOO,
Freddie Wadling,
Neu!,
Sonny Sharrock,
Minnie Riperton,
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Archie Shepp,
Guru Guru,
The American Breed,
Gichy Dan,
The Slits,
Funkadelic,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.