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 Finland and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manchester.
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 808 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 Hasil Adkins to the punk 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The American Breed,
Y Pants,
Black Flag,
Outsiders,
Brick,
Erykah Badu,
Quantec,
PIL,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Certain Ratio,
Rakim,
Gang Starr,
Buzzcocks,
Kerri Chandler,
Gil Scott Heron,
R.M.O.,
The Real Kids,
The Wake,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DNA,
a-ha,
Shuggie Otis,
The Grass Roots,
Lucky Dragons,
Eve St. Jones,
La Düsseldorf,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Searchers,
Grauzone,
Morten Harket,
John Foxx,
Yaz,
Black Bananas,
ABC,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Radiohead,
The Walker Brothers,
Surgeon,
Glenn Branca,
The Moleskins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stereo Dub,
H. Thieme,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Litter,
Au Pairs,
Robert Wyatt,
Ponytail,
Ornette Coleman,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Spoonie Gee,
Tubeway Army,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.