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 Zambia and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb 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 Throbbing Gristle to the disco 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Cecil Taylor,
The J.B.'s,
Chrome,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Skatalites,
Hashim,
Royal Trux,
The Knickerbockers,
Eric Dolphy,
a-ha,
Spandau Ballet,
These Immortal Souls,
Make Up,
Byron Stingily,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Underground Resistance,
Duran Duran,
The Motions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Can,
Half Japanese,
Marvin Gaye,
KRS-One,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amon Düül,
Inner City,
Yaz,
Susan Cadogan,
Soulsonic Force,
Donny Hathaway,
Silicon Teens,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Qualms,
The Grass Roots,
Mr. Review,
Deakin,
Radiohead,
Das Ding,
Bush Tetras,
8 Eyed Spy,
Easy Going,
Peter and Kerry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel,
Average White Band,
Suicide,
Matthew Bourne,
The Divine Comedy,
The Kinks,
Freddie Wadling,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.