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 Mexico and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Donny Hathaway to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Wolf Eyes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Dead C,
Mission of Burma,
Lucky Dragons,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joe Finger,
Shoche,
Supertramp,
The Evens,
Grauzone,
The Buckinghams,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lakeside,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Prince Buster,
Lou Christie,
New York Dolls,
Tropical Tobacco,
DJ Style,
Toni Rubio,
Average White Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Remains,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sugar Minott,
Darondo,
Stereo Dub,
Grey Daturas,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
Banda Bassotti,
Suburban Knight,
Rufus Thomas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Minnie Riperton,
Talk Talk,
Boredoms,
Japan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scientists,
Zapp,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
DJ Sneak,
The J.B.'s,
Man Parrish,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang of Four,
B.T. Express,
Marine Girls,
Cameo,
Wasted Youth,
Brick,
Terry Callier,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barclay James Harvest,
Moebius,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.