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 Madagascar and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the punk 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 Victims. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Kaleidoscope,
Wolf Eyes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Andrew Hill,
Johnny Clarke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris & Cosey,
Michelle Simonal,
Flamin' Groovies,
ABBA,
Barclay James Harvest,
Panda Bear,
Sound Behaviour,
Newcleus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Graham Central Station,
The Associates,
Roxette,
Brothers Johnson,
The Motions,
Pole,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tim Buckley,
The Neon Judgement,
the Germs,
Neil Young,
Metal Thangz,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Albert Ayler,
Pere Ubu,
The Names,
Niagra,
the Bar-Kays,
Quadrant,
Yazoo,
Yaz,
The Stooges,
Thee Headcoats,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Carl Craig,
Echospace,
Todd Rundgren,
The Moleskins,
Sister Nancy,
Gang Green,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nirvana,
Amon Düül,
Cecil Taylor,
Bill Near,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Deadbeat,
Con Funk Shun,
The Leaves,
Porter Ricks,
Barbara Tucker,
The Golliwogs,
Radiohead,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.