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 Maldives and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 synthesizer 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 The Busters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Panda Bear,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
H. Thieme,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
48th St. Collective,
Black Bananas,
Swans,
Deadbeat,
Marvin Gaye,
Lalann,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Kinks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Malaria!,
The Velvet Underground,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mojo Men,
Interpol,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Swell Maps,
Mandrill,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Misunderstood,
Magma,
Urselle,
Vladislav Delay,
Todd Terry,
The Move,
Dead Boys,
Quando Quango,
Joey Negro,
Hashim,
Alison Limerick,
Derrick Morgan,
Boz Scaggs,
Clear Light,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jacques Brel,
Ronan,
Kayak,
Brick,
Lee Hazlewood,
Los Fastidios,
The Birthday Party,
The Pop Group,
Spandau Ballet,
The Offenders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dead C,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Bar-Kays,
The Music Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
The Five Americans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.