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 Gambia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Normal 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jacques Brel,
Magma,
Television Personalities,
Talk Talk,
Bobby Byrd,
Alphaville,
The Happenings,
Bluetip,
Faust,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Associates,
New Age Steppers,
Gong,
Lee Hazlewood,
Slave,
Oblivians,
Idris Muhammad,
Mars,
Sex Pistols,
Mission of Burma,
Steve Hackett,
ABBA,
The Birthday Party,
The Victims,
The Skatalites,
Sixth Finger,
Juan Atkins,
The Human League,
Matthew Halsall,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Pretty Things,
Byron Stingily,
The Seeds,
Lalann,
Arcadia,
Jacob Miller,
Funkadelic,
Black Moon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vladislav Delay,
Duran Duran,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Evens,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott Heron,
Faraquet,
Quadrant,
Half Japanese,
The Five Americans,
Roxette,
Saccharine Trust,
Zero Boys,
Procol Harum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Womack,
Hot Snakes,
Zapp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Hood,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.