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 Brunei and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 mellotron 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
The Electric Prunes,
Eurythmics,
Sound Behaviour,
Theoretical Girls,
Eric Copeland,
Delta 5,
Slave,
The Star Department,
Ultravox,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Porter Ricks,
John Coltrane,
Intrusion,
Buzzcocks,
Main Source,
Popol Vuh,
The Victims,
New York Dolls,
The Remains,
Mad Mike,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moby Grape,
The Toasters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Smog,
Avey Tare,
Marc Almond,
The Gladiators,
Donny Hathaway,
Minor Threat,
Von Mondo,
Average White Band,
Agent Orange,
Franke,
Magma,
Neil Young,
The Smiths,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Minutemen,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
Oblivians,
Tim Buckley,
Nils Olav,
Kayak,
Traffic Nightmare,
Morten Harket,
Dennis Brown,
Grey Daturas,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Can,
Amon Düül II,
Altered Images,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.