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 Slovakia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Electric Prunes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
New York Dolls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blancmange,
PIL,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Surgeon,
DJ Sneak,
Wings,
Howard Jones,
Nils Olav,
Minny Pops,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Nirvana,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sällskapet,
The Music Machine,
June of 44,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Motions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Raincoats,
T. Rex,
The Birthday Party,
Don Cherry,
the Germs,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Malaria!,
Stereo Dub,
MC5,
Bootsy Collins,
Crime,
Roger Hodgson,
Quando Quango,
Darondo,
The Busters,
Scion,
Trumans Water,
Chrome,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Techniques,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Guru Guru,
Fatback Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Flash Fearless,
K-Klass,
Black Moon,
the Bar-Kays,
Thee Headcoats,
Patti Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.