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 Mongolia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Arcadia to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
The Martian,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kayak,
Henry Cow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Minor Threat,
The Human League,
Alison Limerick,
Idris Muhammad,
Malaria!,
Scion,
Suburban Knight,
The Motions,
Rekid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bauhaus,
Index,
One Last Wish,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sugar Minott,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Shuggie Otis,
Bill Near,
Ralphi Rosario,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Oneida,
Reuben Wilson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
A Certain Ratio,
Interpol,
Bobby Sherman,
Roger Hodgson,
Depeche Mode,
Gang Starr,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacques Brel,
Underground Resistance,
Alice Coltrane,
Little Man,
The Happenings,
Nik Kershaw,
Pylon,
Lakeside,
Chrome,
The Index,
Roy Ayers,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
The Blues Magoos,
Magma,
cv313,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Qualms,
Mantronix,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Trojans,
Hardrive,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.