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 Tonga and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pylon to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Funky Four + One,
Can,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deadbeat,
Hardrive,
Barrington Levy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lucky Dragons,
The Smiths,
The Doobie Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Heaven 17,
Chrome,
John Lydon,
Brick,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scientists,
Matthew Bourne,
Rod Modell,
The Slits,
Rufus Thomas,
Alice Coltrane,
Marmalade,
The Walker Brothers,
Tres Demented,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
The Buckinghams,
John Foxx,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Hasil Adkins,
Saccharine Trust,
Harmonia,
Mo-Dettes,
Technova,
Spoonie Gee,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Star Department,
Lightning Bolt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dave Gahan,
Joey Negro,
Wasted Youth,
Bob Dylan,
Panda Bear,
Chris Corsano,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arab on Radar,
Country Teasers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Clear Light,
Icehouse,
The Music Machine,
10cc,
Alton Ellis,
Make Up,
The Monks,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.