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 Yemen and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tres Demented,
Warren Ellis,
Scrapy,
Pierre Henry,
Stereo Dub,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Monks,
Vainqueur,
The Offenders,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fall,
Essential Logic,
Liliput,
EPMD,
Alice Coltrane,
Skriet,
Iggy Pop,
The United States of America,
Whodini,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pantytec,
Newcleus,
Banda Bassotti,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Khruangbin,
Model 500,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eden Ahbez,
Royal Trux,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pole,
DNA,
Danielle Patucci,
Second Layer,
Hashim,
10cc,
Harpers Bizarre,
FM Einheit,
Juan Atkins,
The Gap Band,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Sex Pistols,
John Lydon,
The Searchers,
John Holt,
Q and Not U,
Josef K,
Godley & Creme,
Gang Starr,
H. Thieme,
Tommy Roe,
Suicide,
The Knickerbockers,
Skaos,
Tears for Fears,
Deadbeat,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Dead C,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.