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 Taiwan and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jimmy McGriff to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Marine Girls,
Sugar Minott,
John Cale,
Lyres,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
John Coltrane,
The Associates,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Magma,
Sällskapet,
Black Pus,
Bronski Beat,
Dark Day,
The Searchers,
Icehouse,
Theoretical Girls,
Rapeman,
PIL,
Lalann,
Parry Music,
OOIOO,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nik Kershaw,
Deadbeat,
Anakelly,
Lower 48,
LL Cool J,
Procol Harum,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mantronix,
The Misunderstood,
Harmonia,
The Fall,
La Düsseldorf,
Faraquet,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kurtis Blow,
Monks,
Bob Dylan,
Average White Band,
Index,
The Techniques,
The Invisible,
The Sound,
Nirvana,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eli Mardock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Busters,
Grey Daturas,
Joensuu 1685,
Rekid,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.