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 Greece and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Mo-Dettes to the rock 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Echospace,
Niagra,
Joy Division,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crash Course in Science,
Cymande,
The Evens,
Donny Hathaway,
Deakin,
Yellowson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Oneida,
Swell Maps,
Easy Going,
The Mummies,
Rhythm & Sound,
Howard Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
David Axelrod,
Von Mondo,
Lungfish,
X-Ray Spex,
Roger Hodgson,
Prince Buster,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mars,
Pantaleimon,
the Bar-Kays,
The Misunderstood,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cal Tjader,
Lalo Schifrin,
Radio Birdman,
Aswad,
Lou Christie,
Lyres,
Rites of Spring,
The Stooges,
Sixth Finger,
Donald Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
Stetsasonic,
Das Ding,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bluetip,
Aloha Tigers,
Zero Boys,
48th St. Collective,
DJ Style,
Moby Grape,
La Düsseldorf,
X-101,
The Fall,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Camberwell Now,
David Bowie,
Quando Quango,
Babytalk,
Alphaville,
DNA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.