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 Oman and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 David Bowie 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 Fugs to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bauhaus,
The Cowsills,
Ultra Naté,
John Foxx,
Popol Vuh,
The Moleskins,
Kaleidoscope,
Mission of Burma,
Hasil Adkins,
Groovy Waters,
Massinfluence,
the Bar-Kays,
The Divine Comedy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
DJ Style,
Terry Callier,
Moebius,
Glambeats Corp.,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
In Retrospect,
Minor Threat,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
FM Einheit,
The Martian,
Bizarre Inc.,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Durutti Column,
Bad Manners,
Prince Buster,
Quadrant,
The Residents,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sparks,
The Gories,
U.S. Maple,
Joe Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fad Gadget,
The Blues Magoos,
Warsaw,
K-Klass,
Dave Gahan,
Darondo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Silicon Teens,
ABC,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cure,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Saints,
Cheater Slicks,
The Offenders,
The Angels of Light,
Anakelly,
Amon Düül II,
Sixth Finger,
New Order,
Chris & Cosey,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.