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 Kosovo and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Blossom Toes,
Pole,
Loose Ends,
Gang Green,
Country Teasers,
Porter Ricks,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Livin' Joy,
Kayak,
Ken Boothe,
Blancmange,
Inner City,
The Victims,
Marcia Griffiths,
Swans,
Derrick May,
Max Romeo,
Angry Samoans,
The Techniques,
Lou Christie,
The Pop Group,
The Standells,
Hasil Adkins,
Don Cherry,
ABBA,
Susan Cadogan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mo-Dettes,
Ronnie Foster,
Accadde A,
The Slackers,
Gang of Four,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Last Poets,
Freddie Wadling,
Rekid,
Jeff Mills,
Warren Ellis,
Nirvana,
Glenn Branca,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arthur Verocai,
Ossler,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
John Foxx,
Soft Machine,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Görl,
a-ha,
Dual Sessions,
Severed Heads,
D'Angelo,
Eden Ahbez,
Joe Smooth,
Ronan,
T.S.O.L.,
The Happenings,
Roger Hodgson,
DJ Style,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.