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 Kyrgyzstan and from Delhi.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Reagan Youth,
Derrick Morgan,
Alton Ellis,
Simply Red,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ten City,
Boz Scaggs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Swans,
ABBA,
Dorothy Ashby,
Saccharine Trust,
Mantronix,
Stetsasonic,
Pierre Henry,
B.T. Express,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eurythmics,
Peter & Gordon,
Ossler,
The Gladiators,
Rites of Spring,
The Real Kids,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacques Brel,
Laurel Aitken,
Drexciya,
Main Source,
Minny Pops,
Ludus,
Newcleus,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Knickerbockers,
John Foxx,
Glenn Branca,
The Busters,
Thee Headcoats,
Aaron Thompson,
Siglo XX,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aswad,
The Beau Brummels,
Mad Mike,
The Pretty Things,
Echospace,
Howard Jones,
Crooked Eye,
KRS-One,
Nik Kershaw,
Television Personalities,
Pylon,
Nils Olav,
OOIOO,
The Selecter,
Sun City Girls,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
The Move,
The Music Machine,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.