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 Bolivia and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Cybotron,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Roxy Music,
Charles Mingus,
Tropical Tobacco,
Glenn Branca,
Junior Murvin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash,
Depeche Mode,
Brand Nubian,
Severed Heads,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Funkadelic,
The Offenders,
The Fugs,
The Barracudas,
Smog,
Suicide,
Prince Buster,
Tommy Roe,
Simply Red,
Blossom Toes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Essential Logic,
The Evens,
LL Cool J,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
Sound Behaviour,
The Kinks,
Marshall Jefferson,
June of 44,
The Fuzztones,
Neil Young,
Main Source,
Funky Four + One,
the Bar-Kays,
Loose Ends,
Angry Samoans,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fire Engines,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Birthday Party,
Pantaleimon,
Eurythmics,
Au Pairs,
Amazonics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neu!,
Lower 48,
Roger Hodgson,
Michelle Simonal,
Leonard Cohen,
Pere Ubu,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.