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 Papua New Guinea and from Johannesburg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gong to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ituana,
Mr. Review,
Frankie Knuckles,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yaz,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fugs,
Shuggie Otis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy Collins,
Rapeman,
OOIOO,
Vainqueur,
Funky Four + One,
Charles Mingus,
The Fuzztones,
The Human League,
The Young Rascals,
Michelle Simonal,
Tubeway Army,
Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Althea and Donna,
Soul II Soul,
F. McDonald,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Procol Harum,
James White and The Blacks,
The Move,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smiths,
Marvin Gaye,
Bad Manners,
Los Fastidios,
Black Pus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ronan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hoover,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Fall,
Morten Harket,
Second Layer,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Wyatt,
Gichy Dan,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Boogie Down Productions,
Isaac Hayes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doobie Brothers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Essential Logic,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.