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 Kyrgyzstan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Magma,
Stereo Dub,
Surgeon,
The Skatalites,
The Raincoats,
Eric Copeland,
Fluxion,
Parry Music,
Q and Not U,
The Gun Club,
Deepchord,
Mandrill,
Kerrie Biddell,
Das Ding,
Wally Richardson,
Tom Boy,
Cheater Slicks,
Echospace,
The Five Americans,
Peter and Kerry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Smiths,
Brass Construction,
Al Stewart,
The Standells,
Con Funk Shun,
Nirvana,
Big Daddy Kane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pierre Henry,
Mr. Review,
Scan 7,
Accadde A,
Funkadelic,
New York Dolls,
Radiopuhelimet,
H. Thieme,
The Move,
Audionom,
Niagra,
Aaron Thompson,
Infiniti,
The Moody Blues,
Khruangbin,
Black Pus,
Cymande,
B.T. Express,
The Blackbyrds,
Bobby Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Aural Exciters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Happenings,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Pop Group,
The Motions,
The Martian,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Wyatt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Prince Buster,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.