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 Marshall Islands and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 mellotron 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Parrish,
Oblivians,
Amazonics,
The Modern Lovers,
Mo-Dettes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scratch Acid,
The Young Rascals,
The Raincoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Rod Modell,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Monochrome Set,
The Fall,
Harmonia,
Marc Almond,
James White and The Blacks,
Au Pairs,
Eddi Front,
Soft Machine,
Ituana,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Bananas,
Flamin' Groovies,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Television,
Rites of Spring,
LL Cool J,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Visage,
Dark Day,
The Martian,
Essential Logic,
the Germs,
The United States of America,
Matthew Halsall,
The Pop Group,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang Green,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Harry Pussy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deadbeat,
Glenn Branca,
Yellowson,
Derrick Morgan,
John Holt,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Goldenarms,
Adolescents,
Kool Moe Dee,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hardrive,
Eli Mardock,
The Associates,
Nils Olav,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.