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 Somalia and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 Excepter to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Tears for Fears,
Inner City,
Robert Hood,
The Beau Brummels,
Easy Going,
Tres Demented,
Amazonics,
The Invisible,
Pulsallama,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Chrome,
D'Angelo,
Whodini,
Grauzone,
Marc Almond,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cowsills,
Janne Schatter,
Monolake,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pere Ubu,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
Arthur Verocai,
the Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Accadde A,
The Saints,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Cale,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Yellowson,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare,
Camouflage,
The Monks,
Dennis Brown,
Brand Nubian,
Pantytec,
Henry Cow,
Juan Atkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sandy B,
The Pretty Things,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Moon,
The Victims,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nik Kershaw,
the Normal,
Cymande,
Albert Ayler,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.