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 Canada and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 The Monochrome Set 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Skarface,
Sound Behaviour,
Crispian St. Peters,
Prince Buster,
Barbara Tucker,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
ABC,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Sonics,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Archie Shepp,
Procol Harum,
Mantronix,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wally Richardson,
Saccharine Trust,
Tres Demented,
Bluetip,
Young Marble Giants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arab on Radar,
Harmonia,
Lower 48,
Popol Vuh,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Underground Resistance,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
Reagan Youth,
Tommy Roe,
Fluxion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Neil Young,
Y Pants,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ronan,
Godley & Creme,
John Holt,
The Slackers,
Yellowson,
New York Dolls,
The Beau Brummels,
Altered Images,
The Cramps,
Carl Craig,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jeff Mills,
The Victims,
DNA,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.