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 Angola and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Talk Talk to the grunge 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deepchord,
the Slits,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gun Club,
Half Japanese,
Cal Tjader,
Essential Logic,
The Durutti Column,
Moebius,
48th St. Collective,
Neu!,
Johnny Clarke,
Pulsallama,
Accadde A,
B.T. Express,
Alphaville,
Davy DMX,
Peter & Gordon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Camberwell Now,
Arab on Radar,
Symarip,
the Association,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Model 500,
In Retrospect,
Desert Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
the Germs,
Carl Craig,
Kayak,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Moody Blues,
Sound Behaviour,
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wally Richardson,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boz Scaggs,
Massinfluence,
Pharoah Sanders,
Second Layer,
Chris & Cosey,
Echospace,
Neil Young,
Parry Music,
Ken Boothe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Thompson Twins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bill Wells,
Nico,
Prince Buster,
Metal Thangz,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.