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 Jordan and from Manchester.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
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 oboe 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 Invisible to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Khruangbin,
Metal Thangz,
David McCallum,
Desert Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crooked Eye,
Idris Muhammad,
Parry Music,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Derrick May,
Rod Modell,
Thompson Twins,
Jerry's Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Moon,
Black Sheep,
Agent Orange,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tubeway Army,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
Joy Division,
Chrome,
Hoover,
Intrusion,
John Lydon,
Andrew Hill,
Bush Tetras,
Deadbeat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Görl,
Toni Rubio,
Susan Cadogan,
Grauzone,
The Monochrome Set,
Agitation Free,
B.T. Express,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Christie,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lee Hazlewood,
Livin' Joy,
Skaos,
Sugar Minott,
Matthew Bourne,
Fela Kuti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Procol Harum,
Icehouse,
Stereo Dub,
Slick Rick,
Ultimate Spinach,
Little Man,
Eli Mardock,
Blake Baxter,
The Dirtbombs,
David Axelrod,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Section 25,
Joe Smooth,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.