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 Denmark 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Marc Almond to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Pole,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Mills,
Barry Ungar,
Kas Product,
The Fire Engines,
Scientists,
Fad Gadget,
Brick,
Mars,
Vainqueur,
Mission of Burma,
Jeff Lynne,
Cecil Taylor,
Lower 48,
Bootsy Collins,
Siglo XX,
Monks,
Fat Boys,
Talk Talk,
Yazoo,
Bang On A Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barrington Levy,
Dorothy Ashby,
10cc,
Dual Sessions,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alphaville,
The Evens,
Faust,
Minny Pops,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Babytalk,
Sonic Youth,
Royal Trux,
Robert Görl,
Althea and Donna,
Echospace,
Wolf Eyes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
Ludus,
Drexciya,
Arcadia,
Curtis Mayfield,
Public Enemy,
Jawbox,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Popol Vuh,
Shuggie Otis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Magma,
Cybotron,
The Walker Brothers,
The Mummies,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.