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 Vanuatu and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Organ to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Count Five,
The Index,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Porter Ricks,
Barrington Levy,
Talk Talk,
Nas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Kinks,
the Association,
The Saints,
Matthew Halsall,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Subhumans,
The Evens,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deadbeat,
One Last Wish,
The Buckinghams,
Icehouse,
Archie Shepp,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rekid,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Grass Roots,
Eli Mardock,
Liliput,
Sex Pistols,
Guru Guru,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Raincoats,
Blossom Toes,
Franke,
Minor Threat,
Tommy Roe,
Grauzone,
Blancmange,
The Fall,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Vogues,
Von Mondo,
The Electric Prunes,
Shuggie Otis,
The Names,
Duran Duran,
Cameo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nik Kershaw,
The Busters,
The Stooges,
H. Thieme,
Rapeman,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Sherman,
Tubeway Army,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.