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 Comoros and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 KRS-One to the funk 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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moody Blues,
the Normal,
Grey Daturas,
Guru Guru,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blues Magoos,
Tommy Roe,
The Remains,
Eddi Front,
The Standells,
CMW,
Rotary Connection,
Pere Ubu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Warsaw,
The Vogues,
Oneida,
Panda Bear,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Magma,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Zeros,
B.T. Express,
The Toasters,
Connie Case,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lucky Dragons,
New Age Steppers,
Radio Birdman,
Dark Day,
Roxy Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Vladislav Delay,
Grauzone,
Faust,
The Evens,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Pretty Things,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eden Ahbez,
Lou Christie,
Juan Atkins,
Schoolly D,
Delta 5,
The Seeds,
Carl Craig,
Derrick Morgan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Yellowson,
The Beau Brummels,
Intrusion,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Absolute Body Control,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swell Maps,
Laurel Aitken,
Fear,
Nik Kershaw,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.