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 Kosovo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Aswad to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Toni Rubio,
Rites of Spring,
Desert Stars,
PIL,
Swans,
Tom Boy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Icehouse,
The Toasters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Bananas,
The Motions,
Scott Walker,
The Durutti Column,
Connie Case,
Wings,
Das Ding,
Susan Cadogan,
Buzzcocks,
Dennis Brown,
Alton Ellis,
Nas,
the Human League,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
John Coltrane,
Wally Richardson,
The Trojans,
Ronnie Foster,
Simply Red,
Steve Hackett,
Henry Cow,
Minutemen,
Nico,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Brass Construction,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Morten Harket,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Starr,
Reuben Wilson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Don Cherry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Deakin,
Blossom Toes,
Todd Rundgren,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Selecter,
Urselle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Frankie Knuckles,
A Certain Ratio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Groovy Waters,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.