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 Bulgaria and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Simply Red to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Pole,
Alton Ellis,
the Bar-Kays,
The Remains,
Pantytec,
Vainqueur,
Erasure,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Audionom,
The Mighty Diamonds,
K-Klass,
The Dead C,
Brand Nubian,
Fela Kuti,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
T. Rex,
Anakelly,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Yellowson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rotary Connection,
Wings,
Junior Murvin,
Scion,
Ossler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
David Axelrod,
Soul II Soul,
MC5,
Funky Four + One,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Sonics,
Henry Cow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Panda Bear,
The Standells,
Darondo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Girls At Our Best!,
Maurizio,
Kayak,
Graham Central Station,
Sound Behaviour,
The Offenders,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Quadrant,
Spoonie Gee,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.