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 Iceland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Spandau Ballet to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
The Fire Engines,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
Masters at Work,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crispian St. Peters,
Colin Newman,
Negative Approach,
Gong,
The Cowsills,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Hasil Adkins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Remains,
Rosa Yemen,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rites of Spring,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wasted Youth,
Blossom Toes,
The Pretty Things,
Gang Green,
The Monochrome Set,
Yazoo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Donald Byrd,
Popol Vuh,
Rod Modell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rekid,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kas Product,
Thee Headcoats,
The Associates,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Depeche Mode,
Sparks,
Soft Cell,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sight & Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Aaron Thompson,
Little Man,
Unrelated Segments,
Angry Samoans,
Terry Callier,
Cameo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
PIL,
Toni Rubio,
The Slackers,
Blake Baxter,
Brass Construction,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Ohio Players,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.