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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Steve Hackett to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Sällskapet,
Wally Richardson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang Starr,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jawbox,
Lalann,
The Star Department,
Youth Brigade,
Goldenarms,
The Selecter,
the Slits,
Crooked Eye,
Connie Case,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
ABC,
Black Moon,
F. McDonald,
Minutemen,
Albert Ayler,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Toasters,
Monks,
Minny Pops,
Thompson Twins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stetsasonic,
New Age Steppers,
The New Christs,
Black Sheep,
The Associates,
Black Bananas,
Minnie Riperton,
The Residents,
Howard Jones,
Soulsonic Force,
Absolute Body Control,
Stereo Dub,
KRS-One,
Mandrill,
Electric Prunes,
Dark Day,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Inner City,
a-ha,
Todd Rundgren,
Skriet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Vainqueur,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Almond,
June Days,
The Red Krayola,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kenny Larkin,
The Martian,
Talk Talk,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Leonard Cohen,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.