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 Rwanda and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 Silicon Teens to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Mo-Dettes,
Cecil Taylor,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slits,
Radiopuhelimet,
Morten Harket,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Subhumans,
Marc Almond,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
EPMD,
Grey Daturas,
Unwound,
The Gladiators,
Bob Dylan,
One Last Wish,
Niagra,
Judy Mowatt,
Depeche Mode,
Livin' Joy,
James White and The Blacks,
Stiv Bators,
The Slackers,
The Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Arcadia,
Tim Buckley,
Rites of Spring,
Pylon,
Ossler,
Bad Manners,
The Blues Magoos,
Metal Thangz,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lakeside,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bauhaus,
Rotary Connection,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeru the Damaja,
Simply Red,
Aloha Tigers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Adolescents,
Interpol,
The Moody Blues,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Misunderstood,
Soul Sonic Force,
T. Rex,
Sixth Finger,
Index,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Don Cherry,
Tomorrow,
Accadde A,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.