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 Azerbaijan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator 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 Black Pus to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Colin Newman,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mummies,
Cybotron,
The Cowsills,
Ludus,
Camouflage,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zero Boys,
Byron Stingily,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Pus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Index,
Black Moon,
Wire,
Kas Product,
Dark Day,
Charles Mingus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
ABBA,
Max Romeo,
Lindisfarne,
Magazine,
Black Bananas,
The Standells,
Quadrant,
Procol Harum,
Visage,
The Star Department,
The Names,
Hot Snakes,
The Searchers,
Brothers Johnson,
This Heat,
Lalo Schifrin,
Quantec,
The Velvet Underground,
Ornette Coleman,
Marine Girls,
The Evens,
Robert Görl,
The Saints,
Yazoo,
PIL,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tomorrow,
Desert Stars,
Sugar Minott,
Minor Threat,
Godley & Creme,
Technova,
Tubeway Army,
LL Cool J,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
John Lydon,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.