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 Thailand and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Minnie Riperton to the grunge 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
The Blues Magoos,
Cecil Taylor,
Colin Newman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Au Pairs,
Alphaville,
June of 44,
Black Pus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Shoche,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sister Nancy,
Visage,
Symarip,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fire Engines,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lyres,
Pussy Galore,
Neu!,
Curtis Mayfield,
DJ Style,
Drive Like Jehu,
Barry Ungar,
Procol Harum,
Young Marble Giants,
Graham Central Station,
Eric Copeland,
Bad Manners,
Sun Ra,
Skarface,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marc Almond,
The Barracudas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scratch Acid,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television Personalities,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
Public Enemy,
Al Stewart,
Japan,
Can,
Janne Schatter,
Rod Modell,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aural Exciters,
Black Flag,
Von Mondo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mr. Review,
Radiohead,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.