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 New Zealand and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar 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 Hasil Adkins to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Pop Group,
Agent Orange,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Throbbing Gristle,
Babytalk,
T. Rex,
Scientists,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharoah Sanders,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Move,
Brothers Johnson,
PIL,
Black Bananas,
Organ,
Al Stewart,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fugs,
Clear Light,
Sun Ra,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Association,
The Durutti Column,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
Camouflage,
Y Pants,
Amazonics,
Scratch Acid,
Depeche Mode,
Graham Central Station,
Robert Wyatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
ABC,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soft Machine,
Boredoms,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quadrant,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Holt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The United States of America,
Magma,
Cluster,
Bootsy Collins,
OOIOO,
Deakin,
Sarah Menescal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Morten Harket,
Sällskapet,
Excepter,
Fela Kuti,
Albert Ayler,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.