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 Shanghai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Last Poets to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
Boredoms,
Erykah Badu,
the Normal,
Make Up,
Loose Ends,
Glambeats Corp.,
Negative Approach,
La Düsseldorf,
The Saints,
The Invisible,
Don Cherry,
Electric Prunes,
Warsaw,
David McCallum,
The Monochrome Set,
The Black Dice,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Dead C,
Jacques Brel,
Porter Ricks,
Groovy Waters,
The Stooges,
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pylon,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
Roger Hodgson,
Michelle Simonal,
L. Decosne,
The Mummies,
Symarip,
the Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
Spandau Ballet,
Man Parrish,
Tubeway Army,
Jandek,
Laurel Aitken,
Dual Sessions,
The Tremeloes,
Nas,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Matthew Halsall,
Derrick May,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Bananas,
Thompson Twins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cramps,
Lightning Bolt,
Ludus,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.