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 Antigua and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Beau Brummels to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rites of Spring,
The J.B.'s,
Gregory Isaacs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed,
The Buckinghams,
Rod Modell,
Archie Shepp,
The Wake,
Crash Course in Science,
Bob Dylan,
Brand Nubian,
The Fuzztones,
Oblivians,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Standells,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gladiators,
Cluster,
Scientists,
Tres Demented,
Crooked Eye,
Sarah Menescal,
Section 25,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Birthday Party,
Interpol,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kaleidoscope,
Man Parrish,
Goldenarms,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anthony Braxton,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Grass Roots,
Ronnie Foster,
Absolute Body Control,
Albert Ayler,
Bluetip,
Skarface,
Derrick May,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scratch Acid,
Black Sheep,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Depeche Mode,
Shuggie Otis,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.