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 Belize and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
The Pretty Things,
Tres Demented,
The J.B.'s,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Womack,
Spandau Ballet,
Quadrant,
Steve Hackett,
Public Enemy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
Howard Jones,
Lebanon Hanover,
Television Personalities,
The Misunderstood,
Zero Boys,
Loose Ends,
Grey Daturas,
The Stooges,
The Flesh Eaters,
H. Thieme,
Sarah Menescal,
AZ,
Cymande,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fugazi,
Quantec,
Scratch Acid,
June of 44,
Hardrive,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kas Product,
Erykah Badu,
Rapeman,
The Zeros,
The Techniques,
Hasil Adkins,
Electric Prunes,
DJ Sneak,
Bush Tetras,
Smog,
Popol Vuh,
James Chance & The Contortions,
48th St. Collective,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-Ray Spex,
Agitation Free,
The Standells,
The Grass Roots,
Severed Heads,
Eli Mardock,
The Doors,
The Walker Brothers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kayak,
Aswad,
A Certain Ratio,
The Angels of Light,
The Wake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
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.