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 Solomon Islands and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 Nik Kershaw to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
E-Dancer,
The Barracudas,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Scan 7,
Harmonia,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
Bronski Beat,
Qualms,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agent Orange,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Bananas,
Vladislav Delay,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rites of Spring,
Minny Pops,
Malaria!,
Television,
CMW,
Clear Light,
Tomorrow,
Bad Manners,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eli Mardock,
Popol Vuh,
MDC,
Roger Hodgson,
Mantronix,
The Doors,
Yellowson,
The United States of America,
Ossler,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cybotron,
Erasure,
Easy Going,
Frankie Knuckles,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
Animal Collective,
H. Thieme,
Y Pants,
The Shadows of Knight,
Oblivians,
Bob Dylan,
Hot Snakes,
Surgeon,
Warren Ellis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rosa Yemen,
Harry Pussy,
Bush Tetras,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.