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 Mauritius and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro 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 John Foxx to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Trumans Water,
Sonic Youth,
Can,
The Smoke,
Aswad,
June Days,
48th St. Collective,
Blossom Toes,
Ohio Players,
Leonard Cohen,
Nils Olav,
In Retrospect,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Adolescents,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crime,
Marvin Gaye,
Monolake,
Suicide,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Magma,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alice Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Man Parrish,
Minnie Riperton,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stetsasonic,
Symarip,
Al Stewart,
The Fortunes,
Cymande,
Yusef Lateef,
The Real Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Velvet Underground,
Blake Baxter,
The New Christs,
Joyce Sims,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jacques Brel,
The Black Dice,
Marc Almond,
Soft Cell,
Roxette,
Thompson Twins,
Sound Behaviour,
The Evens,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Standells,
Idris Muhammad,
The Mojo Men,
Rakim,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.