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 Libya and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Buzzcocks to the dance 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Janne Schatter,
The Wake,
The Gladiators,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Crooked Eye,
Wolf Eyes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crime,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nick Fraelich,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Amon Düül II,
Delta 5,
Anthony Braxton,
The Human League,
Robert Görl,
The Music Machine,
R.M.O.,
Blossom Toes,
Eli Mardock,
Fugazi,
The Angels of Light,
The Fugs,
L. Decosne,
Suburban Knight,
Nation of Ulysses,
Index,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Skarface,
Lightning Bolt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Josef K,
Dual Sessions,
Popol Vuh,
Soul II Soul,
Tubeway Army,
Ituana,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Deakin,
Warren Ellis,
Pierre Henry,
Rites of Spring,
Bang On A Can,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Zeros,
David Axelrod,
Lindisfarne,
Japan,
the Human League,
Albert Ayler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Khruangbin,
Boz Scaggs,
Suicide,
Yazoo,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.