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 Cameroon and from Philadelphia.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the jazz 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Sandy B,
The Moleskins,
The Modern Lovers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dave Gahan,
Japan,
Lightning Bolt,
Mr. Review,
The Black Dice,
Harry Pussy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Five Americans,
Arab on Radar,
Prince Buster,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Danielle Patucci,
Scientists,
Marine Girls,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharoah Sanders,
a-ha,
Siglo XX,
Tommy Roe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Index,
Blossom Toes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Swans,
Public Image Ltd.,
R.M.O.,
The Durutti Column,
Donny Hathaway,
Warsaw,
Sparks,
Dawn Penn,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Toasters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quando Quango,
Camberwell Now,
Masters at Work,
The Human League,
The Blues Magoos,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ponytail,
Janne Schatter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Amon Düül,
Pagans,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.