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 Marshall Islands and from Copenhagen.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Doobie Brothers to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Icehouse,
Laurel Aitken,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobbi Humphrey,
James Chance & The Contortions,
JFA,
Japan,
Lungfish,
Bobby Sherman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Walker Brothers,
Lightning Bolt,
June of 44,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Sonics,
Bush Tetras,
Rufus Thomas,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Style,
Colin Newman,
Alice Coltrane,
Matthew Bourne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
cv313,
The Buckinghams,
Sparks,
Harry Pussy,
Althea and Donna,
The Blackbyrds,
The Blues Magoos,
the Swans,
Danielle Patucci,
Graham Central Station,
Lower 48,
Bootsy Collins,
Roy Ayers,
Sun Ra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
CMW,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joyce Sims,
In Retrospect,
Albert Ayler,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Wake,
Shoche,
Lakeside,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kurtis Blow,
Monolake,
Boz Scaggs,
Piero Umiliani,
Jerry's Kids,
Gang Gang Dance,
Erykah Badu,
Jimmy McGriff,
Maleditus Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
The Monks,
Mission of Burma,
Ponytail,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.