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 Taipei.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Second Layer to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
June of 44,
Scientists,
JFA,
Susan Cadogan,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed,
Anthony Braxton,
The Alarm Clocks,
UT,
Simply Red,
Panda Bear,
Danielle Patucci,
Maurizio,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
K-Klass,
Inner City,
Chrome,
The Evens,
Isaac Hayes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
48th St. Collective,
Harmonia,
Reagan Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultra Naté,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Busters,
Clear Light,
Eve St. Jones,
Japan,
Camouflage,
Underground Resistance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeff Lynne,
EPMD,
Steve Hackett,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nils Olav,
Siglo XX,
Roxette,
a-ha,
Wally Richardson,
Dave Gahan,
Babytalk,
Peter & Gordon,
Iggy Pop,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Shadows of Knight,
New Age Steppers,
Ice-T,
Judy Mowatt,
Fluxion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magma,
Alison Limerick,
KRS-One,
Animal Collective,
T. Rex,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.