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 Jamaica and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scan 7 to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Buzzcocks,
Prince Buster,
Hasil Adkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Offenders,
Mr. Review,
Jimmy McGriff,
Leonard Cohen,
Livin' Joy,
Maurizio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
KRS-One,
Y Pants,
Derrick Morgan,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
The Mummies,
Vladislav Delay,
Iggy Pop,
Sight & Sound,
Arab on Radar,
Crash Course in Science,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeff Lynne,
Silicon Teens,
The Real Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
Steve Hackett,
The Dead C,
Mars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Quando Quango,
the Sonics,
Slick Rick,
Amazonics,
Jandek,
Flash Fearless,
Malaria!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
X-102,
The Young Rascals,
The Monochrome Set,
B.T. Express,
Carl Craig,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Flag,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
New Order,
Pharoah Sanders,
Flipper,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dennis Brown,
Reuben Wilson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Roger Hodgson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fatback Band,
The Vogues,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.