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 Kuwait and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Albert Ayler to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Model 500,
Intrusion,
Simply Red,
Sun City Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Icehouse,
Bush Tetras,
Y Pants,
Junior Murvin,
Angry Samoans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eli Mardock,
Maleditus Sound,
Dennis Brown,
Yusef Lateef,
Sonny Sharrock,
New York Dolls,
The Pretty Things,
Scott Walker,
Maurizio,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fuzztones,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Christie,
Theoretical Girls,
Nas,
Lungfish,
the Normal,
Urselle,
Pierre Henry,
Siglo XX,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang Starr,
The Skatalites,
The Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
The Evens,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Circle Jerks,
The Martian,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kayak,
Joe Smooth,
Chrome,
Liliput,
Aswad,
Lebanon Hanover,
Juan Atkins,
Black Pus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masters at Work,
Eric B and Rakim,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Yellowson,
Boz Scaggs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tears for Fears,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.