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 Ethiopia and from Edmonton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 clarinet 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arthur Verocai,
Sixth Finger,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eurythmics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
Black Bananas,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultravox,
Cybotron,
Faust,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minor Threat,
Oblivians,
Loose Ends,
Minnie Riperton,
Inner City,
Michelle Simonal,
Make Up,
Harry Pussy,
The Mummies,
Jandek,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Rosa Yemen,
Khruangbin,
Television Personalities,
Metal Thangz,
Lindisfarne,
Charles Mingus,
Marmalade,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mandrill,
Nico,
The Fall,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barbara Tucker,
Neu!,
Soulsonic Force,
David Axelrod,
Subhumans,
Junior Murvin,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monks,
Scrapy,
Sarah Menescal,
Todd Terry,
H. Thieme,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.