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 Kiribati and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet 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 Ken Boothe to the funk 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
The Fortunes,
New Age Steppers,
Morten Harket,
Aural Exciters,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Holt,
The Monochrome Set,
Toni Rubio,
The Invisible,
Traffic Nightmare,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moss Icon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gastr Del Sol,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman,
New Order,
Mad Mike,
Trumans Water,
Brass Construction,
Joe Finger,
DJ Sneak,
The Young Rascals,
The Residents,
The Moody Blues,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New York Dolls,
The Last Poets,
The Standells,
Interpol,
Massinfluence,
The Beau Brummels,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sixth Finger,
DNA,
These Immortal Souls,
Bad Manners,
Scrapy,
Thompson Twins,
The Buckinghams,
Magma,
The Fire Engines,
Echospace,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bronski Beat,
Rosa Yemen,
Lucky Dragons,
Agent Orange,
Organ,
Drexciya,
Dark Day,
Sun Ra,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Slackers,
Stetsasonic,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.