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 Korea South and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Malaria!,
Interpol,
Alphaville,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wally Richardson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lakeside,
Lou Christie,
Masters at Work,
Ice-T,
Parry Music,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roxy Music,
Los Fastidios,
Rufus Thomas,
Schoolly D,
Warren Ellis,
Cluster,
LL Cool J,
Scrapy,
Subhumans,
Rites of Spring,
Pussy Galore,
DNA,
Siglo XX,
Blossom Toes,
Tommy Roe,
Severed Heads,
Don Cherry,
Anthony Braxton,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Popol Vuh,
Pantaleimon,
Technova,
Sonny Sharrock,
Youth Brigade,
La Düsseldorf,
Moss Icon,
The Gun Club,
The Tremeloes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Loose Ends,
Jawbox,
Saccharine Trust,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultimate Spinach,
X-Ray Spex,
Barry Ungar,
Urselle,
Television,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Sherman,
L. Decosne,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dark Day,
Robert Görl,
EPMD,
Jeru the Damaja,
Chrome,
a-ha,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane 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.