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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 48th St. Collective to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Alice Coltrane,
Wolf Eyes,
Pagans,
the Swans,
Faraquet,
Essential Logic,
Moebius,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aswad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter & Gordon,
Byron Stingily,
Hoover,
Dennis Brown,
Visage,
Bill Near,
Youth Brigade,
The Busters,
Marine Girls,
Sound Behaviour,
The Red Krayola,
Bang On A Can,
ABBA,
Tres Demented,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
Godley & Creme,
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Graham Central Station,
The Fortunes,
The Seeds,
The Neon Judgement,
Freddie Wadling,
Circle Jerks,
Procol Harum,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Saints,
Lalann,
Shuggie Otis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Alison Limerick,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Subhumans,
Babytalk,
Delon & Dalcan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ronan,
Blancmange,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
the Association,
Arab on Radar,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tom Boy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.