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 Armenia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 8 Eyed Spy 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
Warsaw,
Mission of Burma,
Juan Atkins,
Royal Trux,
Radiopuhelimet,
Urselle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Theoretical Girls,
Duran Duran,
Motorama,
The Fall,
Jeff Lynne,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Cramps,
Al Stewart,
Johnny Osbourne,
Loose Ends,
Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Wolf Eyes,
Toni Rubio,
Neu!,
Parry Music,
Y Pants,
Suicide,
Interpol,
Michelle Simonal,
Donald Byrd,
Traffic Nightmare,
Technova,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tears for Fears,
Bill Near,
Youth Brigade,
Man Eating Sloth,
Unrelated Segments,
The Birthday Party,
Spandau Ballet,
Country Teasers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Letta Mbulu,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fugs,
Kaleidoscope,
Prince Buster,
Ultra Naté,
Brass Construction,
The Gladiators,
Adolescents,
Procol Harum,
Can,
Fear,
U.S. Maple,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Steve Hackett,
EPMD,
AZ,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.