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 Tuvalu and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marvin Gaye to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Black Bananas,
Chris & Cosey,
Metal Thangz,
The Slackers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Association,
Eve St. Jones,
Sugar Minott,
The Durutti Column,
Icehouse,
The Names,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Coltrane,
Kas Product,
Peter and Kerry,
Susan Cadogan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Matthew Halsall,
The Misunderstood,
Brick,
The Doors,
Pylon,
Vainqueur,
PIL,
Reuben Wilson,
Crash Course in Science,
New Age Steppers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aaron Thompson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Pus,
Popol Vuh,
Porter Ricks,
Terry Callier,
F. McDonald,
June of 44,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Near,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Leaves,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Johnny Osbourne,
Whodini,
Au Pairs,
Can,
Kaleidoscope,
The Residents,
The Raincoats,
Swell Maps,
Michelle Simonal,
the Soft Cell,
The Martian,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
Schoolly D,
Grandmaster Flash,
Magma,
Underground Resistance,
Amon Düül II,
Arcadia,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.