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 Mongolia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the disco 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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Pretty Things,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deadbeat,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aaron Thompson,
Maleditus Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slackers,
Boz Scaggs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Alice Coltrane,
Archie Shepp,
UT,
Popol Vuh,
James White and The Blacks,
Oneida,
Traffic Nightmare,
Darondo,
Nirvana,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jeff Mills,
T.S.O.L.,
The Walker Brothers,
Toni Rubio,
the Soft Cell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Zapp,
Todd Terry,
L. Decosne,
The Techniques,
Guru Guru,
Lungfish,
Cal Tjader,
Albert Ayler,
OOIOO,
Khruangbin,
Television Personalities,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wire,
Chris & Cosey,
Colin Newman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Urselle,
Sällskapet,
Kas Product,
The Happenings,
Lightning Bolt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Barbara Tucker,
B.T. Express,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Durutti Column,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jacques Brel,
New Age Steppers,
Radio Birdman,
The Wake,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.