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 San Marino and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin 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 T. Rex to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Vainqueur,
Pantytec,
Black Bananas,
Brothers Johnson,
Depeche Mode,
The Buckinghams,
Porter Ricks,
The Pretty Things,
Gang Gang Dance,
T. Rex,
Andrew Hill,
Janne Schatter,
Tres Demented,
Nik Kershaw,
Moss Icon,
Nas,
The Fall,
Chrome,
The Barracudas,
Sun Ra,
Isaac Hayes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Toasters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soft Cell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
David McCallum,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Laurel Aitken,
Roxy Music,
Talk Talk,
The Happenings,
Rapeman,
Moby Grape,
Morten Harket,
Sexual Harrassment,
June of 44,
Jacques Brel,
Au Pairs,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scientists,
The Blues Magoos,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Fat Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dennis Brown,
Main Source,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Judy Mowatt,
Underground Resistance,
Max Romeo,
John Foxx,
Interpol,
Rekid,
Jawbox,
Hoover,
Ponytail,
Motorama,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.