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 Thailand and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 E-Dancer to the punk 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Residents,
Cheater Slicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Moody Blues,
Joe Finger,
The Fall,
Surgeon,
Gichy Dan,
The Black Dice,
The Alarm Clocks,
DJ Style,
Can,
Robert Hood,
Panda Bear,
Unrelated Segments,
Agent Orange,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Names,
The Fugs,
Black Pus,
Gong,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Adolescents,
Barclay James Harvest,
H. Thieme,
The Velvet Underground,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soul II Soul,
Grauzone,
The Standells,
Stockholm Monsters,
Absolute Body Control,
The Moleskins,
Massinfluence,
The Techniques,
Wasted Youth,
The Shadows of Knight,
New York Dolls,
Harmonia,
The Victims,
The Blackbyrds,
Country Teasers,
Deakin,
This Heat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Underground Resistance,
The Gap Band,
The Cure,
cv313,
Flipper,
The Slackers,
Dark Day,
Barbara Tucker,
Mo-Dettes,
John Coltrane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gabor Szabo,
The Raincoats,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.