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 Comoros and from Halifax.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gil Scott Heron to the dance 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hasil Adkins,
Sugar Minott,
Hoover,
The Electric Prunes,
Cybotron,
The Modern Lovers,
Ludus,
Main Source,
Nation of Ulysses,
Banda Bassotti,
Reagan Youth,
Man Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
The Mummies,
The Fugs,
Schoolly D,
Reuben Wilson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Little Man,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Steve Hackett,
the Swans,
Gong,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
The Gladiators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Amon Düül II,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fugazi,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sparks,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Style,
Sällskapet,
the Association,
Intrusion,
Harry Pussy,
New Order,
Davy DMX,
Quando Quango,
Arab on Radar,
Mission of Burma,
Royal Trux,
cv313,
Half Japanese,
Zapp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Khruangbin,
Outsiders,
Sister Nancy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deakin,
Sun Ra,
Rufus Thomas,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
X-101,
Panda Bear,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.