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 Nicaragua and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the techno 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hoover,
Depeche Mode,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fat Boys,
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
The Star Department,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
LL Cool J,
Oblivians,
Andrew Hill,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sarah Menescal,
Kenny Larkin,
Scientists,
David Bowie,
Icehouse,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Angry Samoans,
Blancmange,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Circle Jerks,
Surgeon,
Adolescents,
X-Ray Spex,
Piero Umiliani,
The Techniques,
AZ,
Swans,
Nils Olav,
Yaz,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magazine,
Harmonia,
Pole,
Lucky Dragons,
Fatback Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minny Pops,
The Birthday Party,
The Fire Engines,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
This Heat,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
Outsiders,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gichy Dan,
Rod Modell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Agent Orange,
Peter and Kerry,
Soul II Soul,
The Names,
Rufus Thomas,
Simply Red,
Tears for Fears,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.