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 Montenegro and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Unwound to the punk 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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
The Evens,
Supertramp,
Jeff Lynne,
Pantaleimon,
Pere Ubu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fire Engines,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Knickerbockers,
The Selecter,
Josef K,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Audionom,
Flipper,
Bluetip,
Brass Construction,
Popol Vuh,
the Human League,
Frankie Knuckles,
Alison Limerick,
China Crisis,
Y Pants,
Alice Coltrane,
Ronnie Foster,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bill Wells,
Technova,
Don Cherry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fugazi,
The Blues Magoos,
The Monks,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlback,
Theoretical Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Wally Richardson,
Ken Boothe,
The Real Kids,
Hot Snakes,
The Neon Judgement,
The Angels of Light,
Sam Rivers,
Yellowson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Duran Duran,
CMW,
Roger Hodgson,
Babytalk,
Simply Red,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharoah Sanders,
Desert Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Smiths,
Terry Callier,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.