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 Vanuatu and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 clarinet 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 Associates to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
The Neon Judgement,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Piero Umiliani,
Deepchord,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sällskapet,
Scientists,
This Heat,
Gang Green,
Fear,
Ultravox,
Letta Mbulu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gun Club,
The Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
La Düsseldorf,
Hashim,
Joensuu 1685,
The Walker Brothers,
The Divine Comedy,
CMW,
48th St. Collective,
Excepter,
Kerri Chandler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rites of Spring,
Byron Stingily,
Sun City Girls,
Scott Walker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Toni Rubio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dual Sessions,
Tim Buckley,
Gichy Dan,
The Knickerbockers,
Bronski Beat,
Bluetip,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
The United States of America,
The Seeds,
JFA,
Zapp,
The Tremeloes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marvin Gaye,
Wings,
The Trojans,
Ultra Naté,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Godley & Creme,
X-102,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.