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 Burundi and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Television to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Robert Wyatt,
John Cale,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
T. Rex,
Todd Terry,
The Gun Club,
Ultravox,
Groovy Waters,
The Zeros,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Starr,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
Nico,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Style,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Niagra,
Mantronix,
Maleditus Sound,
Hoover,
Bronski Beat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moss Icon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Moon,
Agitation Free,
Schoolly D,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Parry Music,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
Chrome,
The Smiths,
Blossom Toes,
Joe Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Young Rascals,
Ten City,
Reuben Wilson,
The Misunderstood,
These Immortal Souls,
Graham Central Station,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lou Christie,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rakim,
Mission of Burma,
Unwound,
Saccharine Trust,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fuzztones,
Lyres,
Theoretical Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.