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 Uganda and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Pagans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Altered Images,
Newcleus,
Tomorrow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Khruangbin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soulsonic Force,
Fad Gadget,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
PIL,
Organ,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quadrant,
Depeche Mode,
X-Ray Spex,
Sixth Finger,
X-102,
Franke,
FM Einheit,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Bananas,
Lou Christie,
Simply Red,
Bill Near,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Monochrome Set,
The Techniques,
Sandy B,
The Shadows of Knight,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Half Japanese,
Roxette,
Soft Machine,
Sister Nancy,
Niagra,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Henry Cow,
Lou Reed,
DNA,
Inner City,
Suicide,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Finger,
The Invisible,
Nico,
Neil Young,
Peter & Gordon,
Eden Ahbez,
DJ Sneak,
the Association,
The Human League,
Magazine,
James White and The Blacks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.