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 Kiribati and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 David McCallum to the grunge 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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Fat Boys,
Cymande,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
the Bar-Kays,
Alton Ellis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
UT,
Robert Hood,
Bobby Womack,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aaron Thompson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Yusef Lateef,
Mr. Review,
Robert Wyatt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Darondo,
The Seeds,
Sun City Girls,
DJ Style,
Intrusion,
Model 500,
The Beau Brummels,
the Normal,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Smoke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Morten Harket,
The American Breed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Moleskins,
Talk Talk,
The Remains,
The Walker Brothers,
Colin Newman,
The Cure,
Don Cherry,
Buzzcocks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Animal Collective,
Icehouse,
Sound Behaviour,
Y Pants,
Harmonia,
Avey Tare,
Pantaleimon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Human League,
Fatback Band,
Skarface,
Byron Stingily,
Spandau Ballet,
Dark Day,
Kenny Larkin,
Depeche Mode,
Los Fastidios,
A Certain Ratio,
Jandek,
Sparks,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.