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 East Timor and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Wolf Eyes,
the Human League,
Desert Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shuggie Otis,
The Gories,
Wasted Youth,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Stooges,
Hardrive,
The Index,
Boz Scaggs,
Neu!,
The Divine Comedy,
Lucky Dragons,
The Last Poets,
Graham Central Station,
Tom Boy,
The Wake,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gladiators,
Fugazi,
Harmonia,
Cal Tjader,
Quadrant,
Joe Smooth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deadbeat,
Clear Light,
Danielle Patucci,
The American Breed,
This Heat,
Sun Ra,
Saccharine Trust,
Bronski Beat,
Quando Quango,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
cv313,
Scan 7,
Dual Sessions,
Andrew Hill,
The Litter,
the Swans,
The Happenings,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sam Rivers,
Scrapy,
The Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Human League,
Jerry's Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Durutti Column,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mad Mike,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.