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 Thailand and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 Jacques Brel to the techno 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Ossler,
Con Funk Shun,
The Move,
Byron Stingily,
ABC,
Pulsallama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jawbox,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
cv313,
Maleditus Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Wasted Youth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Wally Richardson,
Spoonie Gee,
Surgeon,
Max Romeo,
Malaria!,
The Zeros,
a-ha,
Eurythmics,
Animal Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Flipper,
Blossom Toes,
Black Pus,
LL Cool J,
The Invisible,
Gang Starr,
Faust,
Joe Smooth,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
Second Layer,
Gichy Dan,
The Happenings,
The Leaves,
Henry Cow,
Boz Scaggs,
Avey Tare,
Rekid,
Loose Ends,
Camouflage,
Michelle Simonal,
Public Enemy,
The United States of America,
Hardrive,
Joensuu 1685,
Rites of Spring,
Bootsy Collins,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scratch Acid,
Cecil Taylor,
Model 500,
Derrick May,
Ituana,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.