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 Bolivia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Steve Hackett,
Freddie Wadling,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Flag,
Terry Callier,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ten City,
Agitation Free,
Colin Newman,
Gang Green,
Jerry's Kids,
Flamin' Groovies,
Malaria!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mad Mike,
Spoonie Gee,
Excepter,
F. McDonald,
Joe Finger,
Don Cherry,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Moleskins,
Rites of Spring,
The Electric Prunes,
Ludus,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bill Wells,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
These Immortal Souls,
Bang On A Can,
Bronski Beat,
The Birthday Party,
Radiohead,
Swell Maps,
Lee Hazlewood,
Donny Hathaway,
Zero Boys,
Aural Exciters,
Masters at Work,
The Names,
Skaos,
Surgeon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Roxette,
Marvin Gaye,
Fat Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smiths,
Mandrill,
Symarip,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Neon Judgement,
Television Personalities,
The Star Department,
Banda Bassotti,
Intrusion,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jacob Miller,
John Coltrane,
Lakeside,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.