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 Turkmenistan and from Lille.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eddi Front,
Panda Bear,
Clear Light,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Subhumans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Blake Baxter,
Fat Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fatback Band,
Dual Sessions,
Juan Atkins,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Busters,
Con Funk Shun,
Sound Behaviour,
cv313,
Minny Pops,
Youth Brigade,
Sexual Harrassment,
Todd Rundgren,
Moby Grape,
Von Mondo,
T.S.O.L.,
Visage,
Donald Byrd,
the Soft Cell,
Pantytec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blues Magoos,
Harry Pussy,
Liliput,
Marc Almond,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bill Near,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lyres,
Icehouse,
Procol Harum,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Amon Düül II,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Intrusion,
Magma,
Organ,
Barry Ungar,
Babytalk,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Echospace,
Kaleidoscope,
Cheater Slicks,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.