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 Moldova and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 Crispy Ambulance to the rock 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Wings,
The Trojans,
Cameo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Joe Smooth,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deadbeat,
Kayak,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joy Division,
Rufus Thomas,
Marcia Griffiths,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Slits,
Electric Prunes,
The Motions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tres Demented,
Roxette,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Victims,
Gang Green,
Half Japanese,
the Fania All-Stars,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wasted Youth,
Max Romeo,
Deakin,
Godley & Creme,
Barrington Levy,
Rites of Spring,
Agent Orange,
The United States of America,
Minutemen,
Absolute Body Control,
Hoover,
Wally Richardson,
Leonard Cohen,
Adolescents,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Evens,
Fear,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deepchord,
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers,
T.S.O.L.,
Nirvana,
Wire,
The Smiths,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.