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 Moldova and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joyce Sims,
Severed Heads,
Bill Near,
Soft Machine,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Max Romeo,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Detroit Cobras,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Vladislav Delay,
Clear Light,
Icehouse,
F. McDonald,
The Invisible,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sam Rivers,
Brick,
the Sonics,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Parrish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Franke,
Crispian St. Peters,
OOIOO,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
The Cowsills,
Young Marble Giants,
The Techniques,
Essential Logic,
Main Source,
Animal Collective,
Minnie Riperton,
Silicon Teens,
Intrusion,
The J.B.'s,
The Associates,
Trumans Water,
Interpol,
Cluster,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
Thompson Twins,
Fluxion,
48th St. Collective,
The Modern Lovers,
The Toasters,
Inner City,
Letta Mbulu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Don Cherry,
Bobby Womack,
The Dirtbombs,
Ossler,
The Doobie Brothers,
Qualms,
The New Christs,
La Düsseldorf,
the Soft Cell,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.