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 Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 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 Oblivians to the grime 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Angry Samoans,
The Cure,
Warren Ellis,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Icehouse,
Sun City Girls,
The Raincoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thee Headcoats,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Byron Stingily,
The Birthday Party,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Black Dice,
Severed Heads,
Fugazi,
Letta Mbulu,
Aural Exciters,
The Pretty Things,
Nirvana,
Loose Ends,
Tres Demented,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brand Nubian,
Lou Christie,
Reuben Wilson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ornette Coleman,
John Cale,
Television,
Steve Hackett,
The Offenders,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moleskins,
These Immortal Souls,
Scan 7,
The Vogues,
Dawn Penn,
the Slits,
UT,
Gang of Four,
Alton Ellis,
Can,
Rhythm & Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brothers Johnson,
Henry Cow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sister Nancy,
Parry Music,
Eric Dolphy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.