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 Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Brand Nubian to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Gong,
Severed Heads,
Franke,
Nico,
Buzzcocks,
Pole,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Suburban Knight,
A Certain Ratio,
the Slits,
Eden Ahbez,
Man Parrish,
a-ha,
The Leaves,
Flash Fearless,
Wally Richardson,
Sandy B,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
DJ Sneak,
Maleditus Sound,
Dead Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Barbara Tucker,
Wasted Youth,
Lyres,
Skaos,
Shoche,
Fatback Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bill Wells,
John Foxx,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Glenn Branca,
Thee Headcoats,
Quantec,
Prince Buster,
Gabor Szabo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Oblivians,
Main Source,
The Music Machine,
Agent Orange,
CMW,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fugs,
John Lydon,
In Retrospect,
Sister Nancy,
The Beau Brummels,
Nation of Ulysses,
Outsiders,
DNA,
Deepchord,
Qualms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ornette Coleman,
Matthew Halsall,
FM Einheit,
Das Ding,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.