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 Papua New Guinea and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jesper Dahlback to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gregory Isaacs,
Amon Düül II,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Modern Lovers,
Danielle Patucci,
Dennis Brown,
Man Parrish,
Lindisfarne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Judy Mowatt,
Q and Not U,
The Remains,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dawn Penn,
Hashim,
Erykah Badu,
Barry Ungar,
John Foxx,
Faust,
The Gun Club,
Babytalk,
Clear Light,
Porter Ricks,
Rapeman,
Monks,
Moby Grape,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gerry Rafferty,
Matthew Bourne,
48th St. Collective,
Bill Near,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oblivians,
Supertramp,
Henry Cow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Fania All-Stars,
Youth Brigade,
Roxette,
the Soft Cell,
Bronski Beat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
Mo-Dettes,
Scott Walker,
E-Dancer,
The Fall,
Lower 48,
Infiniti,
Scratch Acid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The New Christs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Green,
Trumans Water,
Ultra Naté,
Terry Callier,
Wasted Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.