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 Gambia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Curtis Mayfield to the punk 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
MDC,
Jandek,
Siglo XX,
The Raincoats,
X-101,
One Last Wish,
The J.B.'s,
EPMD,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Flipper,
The Barracudas,
Boz Scaggs,
Qualms,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Clear Light,
The Black Dice,
Kayak,
Toni Rubio,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Simply Red,
Quadrant,
Black Flag,
Duran Duran,
Roxy Music,
Organ,
The Fortunes,
The Count Five,
Ornette Coleman,
The Invisible,
Crime,
John Lydon,
Von Mondo,
Lightning Bolt,
Janne Schatter,
Lungfish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Dead C,
Pole,
The Pretty Things,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Christie,
Soft Machine,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Blackbyrds,
Soul II Soul,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
Electric Prunes,
Moebius,
Unrelated Segments,
Absolute Body Control,
The Moleskins,
T. Rex,
Bush Tetras,
Camberwell Now,
The Music Machine,
Erasure,
F. McDonald,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.