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 Libya and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ 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 Mr. Review to the electroclash 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Radiohead,
Sugar Minott,
Radiopuhelimet,
Hardrive,
Avey Tare,
Todd Terry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sound Behaviour,
Ten City,
Junior Murvin,
Organ,
Clear Light,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Agent Orange,
Saccharine Trust,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cheater Slicks,
Half Japanese,
Bush Tetras,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
The Blues Magoos,
Visage,
Quando Quango,
Excepter,
Skriet,
Faust,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yusef Lateef,
Quantec,
Marc Almond,
Cameo,
Tres Demented,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eve St. Jones,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pole,
Swans,
The Buckinghams,
Niagra,
Y Pants,
Albert Ayler,
Andrew Hill,
The Blackbyrds,
The Standells,
Roxette,
Eric B and Rakim,
Slave,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
World's Most,
Fad Gadget,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Judy Mowatt,
Severed Heads,
Gastr Del Sol,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Black Dice,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.