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 Brunei and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bill Wells to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Brass Construction,
Ultra Naté,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Görl,
The Cramps,
The Trojans,
Buzzcocks,
Das Ding,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mr. Review,
Harmonia,
The Real Kids,
Tres Demented,
Derrick May,
Black Flag,
cv313,
Smog,
Joyce Sims,
Gabor Szabo,
Bang On A Can,
Nirvana,
Swans,
Absolute Body Control,
Schoolly D,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marvin Gaye,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ossler,
Minor Threat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sandy B,
Lebanon Hanover,
Altered Images,
The Victims,
Sixth Finger,
The Toasters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DNA,
Letta Mbulu,
Easy Going,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Reuben Wilson,
The Star Department,
Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sällskapet,
Arthur Verocai,
Eve St. Jones,
The Move,
Severed Heads,
Electric Prunes,
Dual Sessions,
Juan Atkins,
Byron Stingily,
Leonard Cohen,
Anthony Braxton,
MDC,
Stiv Bators,
Iggy Pop,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.