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 Cape Verde and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes 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 Hoover to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Schoolly D,
Minnie Riperton,
The Smoke,
Gang of Four,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brass Construction,
Flipper,
Dead Boys,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Maurizio,
Main Source,
Jacques Brel,
Porter Ricks,
Severed Heads,
Metal Thangz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Echospace,
The Evens,
Reuben Wilson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eli Mardock,
Joy Division,
Smog,
Niagra,
Scott Walker,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Erasure,
Monolake,
CMW,
Lucky Dragons,
The Music Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Ludus,
Deepchord,
Massinfluence,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Hoover,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fuzztones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
U.S. Maple,
Nirvana,
Ohio Players,
Quadrant,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Theoretical Girls,
Tom Boy,
Suburban Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grey Daturas,
Sonic Youth,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.