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 Turkmenistan and from London.
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 Glasgow and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Henry Cow 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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
The Gories,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
The Five Americans,
Technova,
FM Einheit,
Dawn Penn,
Tomorrow,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Piero Umiliani,
Alice Coltrane,
Chrome,
DNA,
the Fania All-Stars,
Qualms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Evens,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Flag,
Amazonics,
Goldenarms,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mandrill,
The American Breed,
Marc Almond,
Popol Vuh,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fire Engines,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Near,
Joy Division,
The Modern Lovers,
The Gap Band,
Aural Exciters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Monks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Man Parrish,
Robert Hood,
Clear Light,
UT,
the Human League,
Motorama,
Minny Pops,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Agitation Free,
Buzzcocks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jerry's Kids,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ludus,
The Pretty Things,
H. Thieme,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Womack,
Fluxion,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Grauzone,
Desert Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Index,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.