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 East Timor and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Oneida to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
Bootsy Collins,
The Smoke,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Vainqueur,
Yusef Lateef,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Index,
Amon Düül II,
La Düsseldorf,
Peter & Gordon,
The Smiths,
Subhumans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Moss Icon,
Iggy Pop,
The Techniques,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Spandau Ballet,
Crime,
The Durutti Column,
Pantaleimon,
Magma,
Cluster,
Wasted Youth,
Scion,
Wolf Eyes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mo-Dettes,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Bananas,
June of 44,
Young Marble Giants,
Bill Near,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crispian St. Peters,
Con Funk Shun,
Electric Prunes,
Babytalk,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Busters,
Connie Case,
Section 25,
Thee Headcoats,
Yazoo,
Althea and Donna,
Albert Ayler,
Thompson Twins,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cybotron,
Neu!,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arthur Verocai,
Sam Rivers,
Bill Wells,
Eric Dolphy,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.