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 Tuvalu and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Buzzcocks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Shuggie Otis,
Little Man,
Thee Headcoats,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Hood,
Ultra Naté,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The United States of America,
Nick Fraelich,
James White and The Blacks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deadbeat,
The Mojo Men,
Model 500,
Royal Trux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
E-Dancer,
Electric Prunes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nik Kershaw,
Anakelly,
Das Ding,
Supertramp,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Red Krayola,
The Divine Comedy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gichy Dan,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Erasure,
The Kinks,
Tubeway Army,
Unrelated Segments,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
David Axelrod,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roxette,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mantronix,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Glenn Branca,
David Bowie,
A Certain Ratio,
The Smiths,
Juan Atkins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pet Shop Boys,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.