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 Portugal and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Aural Exciters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
K-Klass,
D'Angelo,
Bill Wells,
Dead Boys,
The Smoke,
Massinfluence,
Robert Wyatt,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Terry,
Graham Central Station,
Tubeway Army,
Prince Buster,
The Gladiators,
Susan Cadogan,
Sam Rivers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Oneida,
Television,
Fluxion,
The Five Americans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
L. Decosne,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amazonics,
Andrew Hill,
Yaz,
Aloha Tigers,
Joy Division,
Anakelly,
Porter Ricks,
Organ,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Star Department,
The Searchers,
the Germs,
Derrick Morgan,
The Gap Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tres Demented,
Grey Daturas,
Fat Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Quantec,
Unrelated Segments,
Michelle Simonal,
Scratch Acid,
Sunsets and Hearts,
JFA,
Lou Christie,
Circle Jerks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cal Tjader,
Minny Pops,
Au Pairs,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.