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 Barbados and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nas 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
John Cale,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Judy Mowatt,
Japan,
The Moody Blues,
The Walker Brothers,
Babytalk,
Lindisfarne,
LL Cool J,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Moon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Prince Buster,
The Fire Engines,
Nik Kershaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Youth Brigade,
The Red Krayola,
Arcadia,
The Mummies,
Deadbeat,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeff Lynne,
The Velvet Underground,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marine Girls,
Infiniti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Idris Muhammad,
Alison Limerick,
Mr. Review,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
8 Eyed Spy,
Royal Trux,
John Holt,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ronnie Foster,
Franke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Monks,
Freddie Wadling,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rotary Connection,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Sound,
Monolake,
Robert Hood,
Outsiders,
Fatback Band,
The Buckinghams,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
K-Klass,
DJ Sneak,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-102,
Reuben Wilson,
Pantytec,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.