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 Chad and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Peter & Gordon to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Eddi Front,
Grauzone,
Thompson Twins,
Bob Dylan,
CMW,
Gong,
Mo-Dettes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Icehouse,
Althea and Donna,
Kayak,
The Zeros,
The Saints,
The Monochrome Set,
Stereo Dub,
The Fortunes,
Index,
Sound Behaviour,
MC5,
Deepchord,
Brick,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Durutti Column,
Wolf Eyes,
The Misunderstood,
Yellowson,
James White and The Blacks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
Quando Quango,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cecil Taylor,
Jacob Miller,
Rapeman,
Kool Moe Dee,
Derrick May,
Surgeon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
ABC,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faraquet,
Sonic Youth,
The Seeds,
Tom Boy,
The Moleskins,
Toni Rubio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Arab on Radar,
Bobby Sherman,
The Dead C,
Sällskapet,
Rakim,
Au Pairs,
Ponytail,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.