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 Suriname and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the punk 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
The Mummies,
Babytalk,
Moby Grape,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Erasure,
The Sound,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Los Fastidios,
Gastr Del Sol,
Icehouse,
The Kinks,
Joy Division,
The Music Machine,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Count Five,
Graham Central Station,
Supertramp,
Piero Umiliani,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacques Brel,
Lindisfarne,
Khruangbin,
Quantec,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Massinfluence,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arcadia,
Qualms,
Subhumans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eli Mardock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
48th St. Collective,
Barrington Levy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brand Nubian,
Mark Hollis,
Jandek,
The J.B.'s,
Mantronix,
Robert Hood,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cameo,
Severed Heads,
Sugar Minott,
Fear,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gap Band,
The Red Krayola,
The Detroit Cobras,
David Axelrod,
The Evens,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roger Hodgson,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.