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 Iceland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 John Cale to the grunge 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Matthew Bourne,
Index,
Albert Ayler,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stiv Bators,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Joensuu 1685,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Erasure,
Scratch Acid,
Duran Duran,
B.T. Express,
Dead Boys,
Oblivians,
Tom Boy,
Sister Nancy,
10cc,
Eli Mardock,
Severed Heads,
Erykah Badu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Youth Brigade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Whodini,
Reuben Wilson,
The Moody Blues,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
Lower 48,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
The Doors,
The Detroit Cobras,
The J.B.'s,
The Blackbyrds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aswad,
A Certain Ratio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tommy Roe,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Half Japanese,
Lakeside,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Last Poets,
The Moleskins,
Marc Almond,
kango's stein massive,
Japan,
Von Mondo,
The Mummies,
Sugar Minott,
The Remains,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
The Invisible,
The Walker Brothers,
New Order,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.