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 Antigua and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jeff Lynne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Warren Ellis,
the Slits,
Amazonics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Masters at Work,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
Pantaleimon,
Section 25,
Skarface,
Joyce Sims,
Neu!,
Howard Jones,
Ornette Coleman,
Al Stewart,
Amon Düül II,
Newcleus,
Moby Grape,
Anakelly,
Jeff Mills,
Saccharine Trust,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Red Krayola,
Danielle Patucci,
Index,
Monolake,
Eric Dolphy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Niagra,
Suburban Knight,
Charles Mingus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brass Construction,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Panda Bear,
Youth Brigade,
Idris Muhammad,
Intrusion,
Avey Tare,
Aural Exciters,
John Foxx,
Todd Terry,
Interpol,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Country Teasers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jerry's Kids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Main Source,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mo-Dettes,
Mr. Review,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Ituana,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.