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 South Sudan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Wings to the grime 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Wyatt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
E-Dancer,
Skarface,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The New Christs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Slits,
Donald Byrd,
Cameo,
Make Up,
Traffic Nightmare,
Spoonie Gee,
Soul II Soul,
Barrington Levy,
Arthur Verocai,
Half Japanese,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scrapy,
June Days,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Moon,
The Selecter,
Eric Copeland,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Depeche Mode,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Womack,
Aloha Tigers,
Blake Baxter,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scion,
Al Stewart,
Crash Course in Science,
Porter Ricks,
Mantronix,
The Seeds,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mo-Dettes,
Clear Light,
Robert Hood,
Reagan Youth,
Parry Music,
Sarah Menescal,
Procol Harum,
The Motions,
The Cowsills,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minnie Riperton,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Byrd,
Suicide,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sound,
Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
Radiohead,
Josef K,
Yaz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.