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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet 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 Fad Gadget to the techno 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Yaz,
Donald Byrd,
The Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bang On A Can,
Loose Ends,
Skarface,
Half Japanese,
Index,
Fluxion,
The Birthday Party,
Sam Rivers,
The Offenders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neu!,
Blancmange,
Mars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ronan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bill Wells,
Faraquet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
LL Cool J,
Dead Boys,
Nick Fraelich,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Music Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Yellowson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Buckinghams,
Infiniti,
The Searchers,
Aural Exciters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cybotron,
a-ha,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aloha Tigers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Amazonics,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Moleskins,
Fat Boys,
Inner City,
Piero Umiliani,
James White and The Blacks,
Young Marble Giants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
T.S.O.L.,
Tubeway Army,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.