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 Benin and from Manchester.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro 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 FM Einheit to the funk 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Loose Ends,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Amazonics,
the Sonics,
the Swans,
Kayak,
The Buckinghams,
The Vogues,
Mantronix,
Hashim,
Curtis Mayfield,
Monolake,
Barrington Levy,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Angels of Light,
The Birthday Party,
F. McDonald,
Lightning Bolt,
Don Cherry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lou Christie,
Tubeway Army,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Moby Grape,
Faraquet,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Dave Clark Five,
Slave,
Hoover,
Oblivians,
The Skatalites,
Index,
Byron Stingily,
Magma,
Alison Limerick,
Rosa Yemen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nico,
Quadrant,
ABBA,
Reuben Wilson,
Marvin Gaye,
Sun Ra,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Brothers Johnson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Motions,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mojo Men,
B.T. Express,
Glenn Branca,
The Fortunes,
Dark Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.