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 Bangladesh and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bizarre Inc. to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Monks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lungfish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roy Ayers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Dead C,
Oneida,
Iggy Pop,
Moby Grape,
Dead Boys,
the Soft Cell,
The Saints,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gap Band,
Symarip,
Boogie Down Productions,
Matthew Bourne,
La Düsseldorf,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Foxx,
Q and Not U,
UT,
Can,
Panda Bear,
Kurtis Blow,
Ice-T,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Henry Cow,
Rosa Yemen,
The Fuzztones,
Khruangbin,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Womack,
Pylon,
Bill Near,
Delon & Dalcan,
Aural Exciters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Alison Limerick,
Jawbox,
the Germs,
Fad Gadget,
Sex Pistols,
Zero Boys,
Surgeon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sällskapet,
MC5,
Kenny Larkin,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sandy B,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nico,
The Buckinghams,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Fire Engines,
Rites of Spring,
The Motions,
It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day.
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.