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 Israel and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Gerry Rafferty to the electroclash 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Marvin Gaye,
The J.B.'s,
Lou Reed,
Pulsallama,
Dual Sessions,
The Cramps,
Yellowson,
Pere Ubu,
Charles Mingus,
Nation of Ulysses,
Aswad,
the Normal,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gang Green,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pylon,
Anakelly,
Masters at Work,
The Fuzztones,
The Real Kids,
Panda Bear,
Drexciya,
In Retrospect,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faust,
Jeff Lynne,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Barracudas,
The Invisible,
Black Flag,
The Golliwogs,
Ronan,
Isaac Hayes,
Peter & Gordon,
The Pop Group,
Mars,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Byrd,
Make Up,
Sister Nancy,
The Kinks,
Crime,
The Evens,
Yusef Lateef,
Terrestrial Tones,
New Age Steppers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Index,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rapeman,
DJ Sneak,
The Wake,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aloha Tigers,
The Zeros,
The Techniques,
The Offenders,
The Pretty Things,
The American Breed,
The Gun Club,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.