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 Albania 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Roxy Music,
Radiopuhelimet,
Au Pairs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultravox,
The Durutti Column,
Andrew Hill,
Don Cherry,
John Foxx,
Mark Hollis,
Slave,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jandek,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Names,
Nico,
Flipper,
Max Romeo,
Shoche,
The Neon Judgement,
Alton Ellis,
Morten Harket,
Derrick Morgan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Cale,
Aaron Thompson,
Rites of Spring,
Crooked Eye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marc Almond,
The Vogues,
Bobby Sherman,
Mo-Dettes,
Lucky Dragons,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Smog,
Stetsasonic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter and Kerry,
Lebanon Hanover,
This Heat,
Silicon Teens,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Searchers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Malaria!,
ABC,
Gabor Szabo,
Desert Stars,
Chris & Cosey,
The Smiths,
Alison Limerick,
Joey Negro,
The Moody Blues,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.