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 Equatorial Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 organ 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 Motorama to the punk 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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Heaven 17,
Eli Mardock,
Dawn Penn,
Bluetip,
Rakim,
Vainqueur,
Buzzcocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
K-Klass,
Lou Reed,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Invisible,
Matthew Bourne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Brass Construction,
The Wake,
Sexual Harrassment,
Talk Talk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Maurizio,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Zero Boys,
Boz Scaggs,
Steve Hackett,
Scratch Acid,
Bill Near,
Desert Stars,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tomorrow,
Half Japanese,
Anakelly,
The Names,
Reuben Wilson,
La Düsseldorf,
Moby Grape,
Funkadelic,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sarah Menescal,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Barry Ungar,
Michelle Simonal,
Amon Düül,
F. McDonald,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Moleskins,
Monks,
Vladislav Delay,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
LL Cool J,
Robert Wyatt,
Sex Pistols,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Germs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Juan Atkins,
Jacques Brel,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.