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 Norway and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator 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 Scott Walker to the crunk 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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Mr. Review,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lindisfarne,
The Busters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Agent Orange,
Accadde A,
Aural Exciters,
Sex Pistols,
Japan,
Andrew Hill,
K-Klass,
Roxette,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Y Pants,
Man Parrish,
Fugazi,
Model 500,
Los Fastidios,
Infiniti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Young Marble Giants,
The Techniques,
Barry Ungar,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Neil Young,
Adolescents,
Minnie Riperton,
Brass Construction,
Sister Nancy,
Panda Bear,
The Human League,
Animal Collective,
Camberwell Now,
Mars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Motions,
The Modern Lovers,
B.T. Express,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dennis Brown,
Carl Craig,
Das Ding,
Franke,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultravox,
Kool Moe Dee,
Organ,
John Foxx,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Drexciya,
Arab on Radar,
Rosa Yemen,
Morten Harket,
ABC,
Soul II Soul,
Stereo Dub,
Television,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.