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 Brunei and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eric Dolphy 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Cybotron,
Blancmange,
The Velvet Underground,
The Angels of Light,
In Retrospect,
Newcleus,
Jeff Lynne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Charles Mingus,
The Divine Comedy,
Anakelly,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wire,
Joyce Sims,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
Index,
Rites of Spring,
The Busters,
Young Marble Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deadbeat,
Albert Ayler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lakeside,
The Moody Blues,
The Durutti Column,
Gastr Del Sol,
Goldenarms,
The Cowsills,
Mark Hollis,
Drexciya,
Oblivians,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Loose Ends,
Eden Ahbez,
Visage,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Stiv Bators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kenny Larkin,
June of 44,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gerry Rafferty,
Todd Terry,
Letta Mbulu,
Au Pairs,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
A Certain Ratio,
Rod Modell,
Cluster,
Liliput,
Archie Shepp,
Bob Dylan,
The Misunderstood,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fugazi,
Roy Ayers,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.