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 Bahamas and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sarah Menescal to the electroclash 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Byron Stingily,
Man Parrish,
Pole,
Bauhaus,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Public Enemy,
The Real Kids,
DNA,
Ultra Naté,
Morten Harket,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dead C,
Delta 5,
Smog,
ABBA,
Max Romeo,
UT,
Sight & Sound,
Brass Construction,
Von Mondo,
Tommy Roe,
Soulsonic Force,
Warren Ellis,
Zapp,
Tears for Fears,
cv313,
Vladislav Delay,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Starr,
Liliput,
Swans,
The Five Americans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vainqueur,
The Residents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Angels of Light,
Cal Tjader,
Donny Hathaway,
Joe Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Searchers,
Sex Pistols,
The Gun Club,
The Tremeloes,
Rotary Connection,
Barrington Levy,
Al Stewart,
Susan Cadogan,
Kerri Chandler,
Iggy Pop,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Star Department,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Young Rascals,
The Leaves,
Franke,
Roy Ayers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.