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 Greece and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Scientists,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Beau Brummels,
Loose Ends,
Soft Machine,
U.S. Maple,
New York Dolls,
David Bowie,
The Star Department,
DJ Sneak,
Young Marble Giants,
The Sound,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sugar Minott,
The Angels of Light,
The Black Dice,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
Fear,
Procol Harum,
Eddi Front,
The Doors,
The Evens,
Mr. Review,
Anthony Braxton,
Section 25,
Mars,
The Index,
Sun City Girls,
Deakin,
Pulsallama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Anakelly,
Marvin Gaye,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Buckinghams,
Arab on Radar,
Sandy B,
Kaleidoscope,
Harpers Bizarre,
Davy DMX,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ice-T,
Crash Course in Science,
Aaron Thompson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy Collins,
The Dead C,
Skaos,
Monolake,
R.M.O.,
The Durutti Column,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bronski Beat,
Ultimate Spinach,
Supertramp,
Mad Mike,
Gregory Isaacs,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.