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 the UAE and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin 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 Smoke to the rap 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Wings,
Ken Boothe,
Blancmange,
Mandrill,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fortunes,
Livin' Joy,
John Cale,
FM Einheit,
Iggy Pop,
Infiniti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Outsiders,
Al Stewart,
Sandy B,
Brothers Johnson,
Suicide,
Roxette,
Funky Four + One,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Soft Cell,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Aloha Tigers,
Television Personalities,
Robert Hood,
Tears for Fears,
Boogie Down Productions,
Alton Ellis,
Supertramp,
Soul II Soul,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
The Detroit Cobras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eden Ahbez,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roxy Music,
John Holt,
The Beau Brummels,
Underground Resistance,
Barry Ungar,
Sam Rivers,
Cecil Taylor,
Sun City Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Barbara Tucker,
Carl Craig,
Pagans,
Clear Light,
The Blackbyrds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Andrew Hill,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rites of Spring,
The Remains,
Radiohead,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.