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 Ireland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Danielle Patucci to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Massinfluence,
The Sound,
Icehouse,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
Erasure,
Barrington Levy,
Neil Young,
Chris & Cosey,
Supertramp,
The Dead C,
Sam Rivers,
One Last Wish,
Black Flag,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dave Gahan,
Tropical Tobacco,
cv313,
David McCallum,
Heaven 17,
Skriet,
Surgeon,
The J.B.'s,
Funky Four + One,
Y Pants,
Iggy Pop,
Crispy Ambulance,
Stereo Dub,
Yaz,
Slave,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camberwell Now,
Jandek,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Funkadelic,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grauzone,
John Lydon,
Freddie Wadling,
Essential Logic,
Robert Görl,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scion,
Dual Sessions,
The Detroit Cobras,
Clear Light,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harry Pussy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ohio Players,
The Mojo Men,
Mandrill,
Technova,
Juan Atkins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aloha Tigers,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.