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 Laos and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Technova to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lindisfarne,
Mo-Dettes,
Soft Machine,
The Kinks,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Sheep,
Brass Construction,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Vainqueur,
UT,
Symarip,
Maurizio,
Junior Murvin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dirtbombs,
World's Most,
the Swans,
The Wake,
Lower 48,
Janne Schatter,
Todd Rundgren,
Talk Talk,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nils Olav,
Crime,
Marvin Gaye,
Faust,
Bang On A Can,
Excepter,
Subhumans,
Nirvana,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Grass Roots,
Radio Birdman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cal Tjader,
Man Parrish,
Sister Nancy,
The Birthday Party,
The Gladiators,
Marc Almond,
Ossler,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Patti Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cybotron,
Gang of Four,
Eve St. Jones,
the Bar-Kays,
Quando Quango,
EPMD,
Gastr Del Sol,
Theoretical Girls,
Agent Orange,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.