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 Haiti and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 sitar 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 Royal Trux to the crunk 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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
The Buckinghams,
LL Cool J,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harpers Bizarre,
Peter & Gordon,
Erasure,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eric B and Rakim,
Graham Central Station,
Terrestrial Tones,
Suicide,
The Kinks,
Icehouse,
PIL,
Roy Ayers,
The Pop Group,
Jeff Lynne,
Funkadelic,
Shuggie Otis,
Franke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dual Sessions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kerri Chandler,
DNA,
Ken Boothe,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tomorrow,
Flipper,
The Human League,
Gichy Dan,
ABBA,
James White and The Blacks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
MDC,
Organ,
The Raincoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
The Move,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brothers Johnson,
Nik Kershaw,
The Remains,
A Certain Ratio,
The Velvet Underground,
Mark Hollis,
Ituana,
Goldenarms,
The Fugs,
Ronnie Foster,
Terry Callier,
Bronski Beat,
Ornette Coleman,
Boredoms,
Jacques Brel,
Sound Behaviour,
Mad Mike,
Second Layer,
Al Stewart,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.