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 Iceland 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mr. Review,
The Selecter,
Davy DMX,
Brass Construction,
Sister Nancy,
This Heat,
The American Breed,
Quadrant,
Eric Dolphy,
The Knickerbockers,
Ohio Players,
Michelle Simonal,
The Grass Roots,
Jeff Lynne,
Model 500,
L. Decosne,
June of 44,
Lungfish,
Rod Modell,
Fad Gadget,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
June Days,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Royal Trux,
Fear,
Radio Birdman,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moody Blues,
The Alarm Clocks,
Derrick Morgan,
Marvin Gaye,
the Association,
Roxette,
Dark Day,
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Section 25,
Pagans,
Joe Finger,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lebanon Hanover,
David Bowie,
LL Cool J,
The Names,
Inner City,
Yellowson,
Procol Harum,
Erasure,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Wyatt,
AZ,
Depeche Mode,
The Smiths,
Tim Buckley,
John Coltrane,
The Birthday Party,
UT,
The Happenings,
John Cale,
Subhumans,
The Mummies,
The Gap Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.