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 Guinea-Bissau and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Gap Band to the disco 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Pus,
Charles Mingus,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Real Kids,
Thee Headcoats,
David Axelrod,
Cheater Slicks,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Gladiators,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Inner City,
Gregory Isaacs,
Electric Prunes,
Index,
Susan Cadogan,
New Order,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fall,
Ornette Coleman,
Sound Behaviour,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Silicon Teens,
the Normal,
Subhumans,
The American Breed,
Radio Birdman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fela Kuti,
The Doors,
Loose Ends,
Albert Ayler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crooked Eye,
Ponytail,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Zeros,
Y Pants,
Royal Trux,
Moby Grape,
Barbara Tucker,
Donny Hathaway,
Robert Wyatt,
Howard Jones,
The Electric Prunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Busters,
Make Up,
Arab on Radar,
Malaria!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deakin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Al Stewart,
Talk Talk,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.