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 Egypt and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Terry Callier to the techno 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Piero Umiliani,
Tears for Fears,
Wings,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ronan,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang Green,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Outsiders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Royal Trux,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gong,
The Leaves,
Negative Approach,
Wally Richardson,
Stereo Dub,
Freddie Wadling,
The Durutti Column,
The Last Poets,
Radiohead,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Vainqueur,
The Moleskins,
Sparks,
Crime,
Kerri Chandler,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Golliwogs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Trumans Water,
Ludus,
DNA,
Popol Vuh,
Depeche Mode,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Audionom,
Black Bananas,
Iggy Pop,
Brothers Johnson,
Oblivians,
Bang On A Can,
Heaven 17,
Minnie Riperton,
Stockholm Monsters,
F. McDonald,
The Sound,
Donald Byrd,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Foxx,
Peter and Kerry,
Japan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Parrish,
Nils Olav,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.