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 Micronesia and from Tokyo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare 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 Laurel Aitken to the rock 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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joey Negro,
The Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Blossom Toes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Deepchord,
Jandek,
The Index,
The American Breed,
Lucky Dragons,
Whodini,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stiv Bators,
Ten City,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rites of Spring,
Skriet,
Tropical Tobacco,
June Days,
Buzzcocks,
Soft Cell,
Zapp,
Scott Walker,
Eurythmics,
Pagans,
Connie Case,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
Nico,
Henry Cow,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
Los Fastidios,
the Germs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lindisfarne,
Matthew Bourne,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marmalade,
The Music Machine,
the Soft Cell,
Dennis Brown,
Excepter,
Ituana,
The Sonics,
Hasil Adkins,
LL Cool J,
Theoretical Girls,
Erasure,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Anthony Braxton,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mark Hollis,
Neil Young,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.