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 Togo and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the rock 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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
H. Thieme,
Hoover,
Infiniti,
Rod Modell,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nirvana,
The Electric Prunes,
Flipper,
Bobby Womack,
Altered Images,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pere Ubu,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cure,
Bush Tetras,
Suicide,
Reuben Wilson,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Busters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scratch Acid,
the Bar-Kays,
Cluster,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T.S.O.L.,
The Move,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scientists,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dawn Penn,
Eddi Front,
Archie Shepp,
Marvin Gaye,
Sarah Menescal,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-102,
Stereo Dub,
Nick Fraelich,
Scan 7,
Bluetip,
Spandau Ballet,
Accadde A,
Symarip,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Groovy Waters,
The Fuzztones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pulsallama,
Brothers Johnson,
The Names,
The Pretty Things,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eric Dolphy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Visage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Vladislav Delay,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.