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 Egypt and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron 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 Sound Behaviour to the dance 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Andrew Hill,
In Retrospect,
Rites of Spring,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anthony Braxton,
Sugar Minott,
Neu!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cheater Slicks,
Lucky Dragons,
The Searchers,
Pole,
Royal Trux,
Isaac Hayes,
The Doors,
Pierre Henry,
Dennis Brown,
Terry Callier,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sun City Girls,
Ultravox,
Laurel Aitken,
Yaz,
Make Up,
Pussy Galore,
Letta Mbulu,
Can,
Tommy Roe,
The J.B.'s,
The Music Machine,
Maurizio,
X-Ray Spex,
Chrome,
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ludus,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Happenings,
Ronan,
Blossom Toes,
Minor Threat,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pylon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
Rapeman,
Chris & Cosey,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
Lower 48,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Invisible,
Fear,
Ronnie Foster,
Livin' Joy,
Japan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tomorrow,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.