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 United Kingdom and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Durutti Column to the disco 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 Leaves. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bob Dylan,
The Vogues,
John Holt,
Joe Finger,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scion,
Aaron Thompson,
Henry Cow,
JFA,
Goldenarms,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hot Snakes,
The Dead C,
The Buckinghams,
Jeff Mills,
Smog,
Jacques Brel,
Kool Moe Dee,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bad Manners,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Flash Fearless,
Make Up,
Robert Görl,
Dave Gahan,
Lungfish,
Bobby Sherman,
Byron Stingily,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shoche,
Tommy Roe,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kaleidoscope,
The Walker Brothers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television,
Monks,
Roxette,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skarface,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slick Rick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Monks,
Wolf Eyes,
Charles Mingus,
H. Thieme,
Depeche Mode,
Sound Behaviour,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Peter and Kerry,
The Victims,
The Moody Blues,
The Last Poets,
Bill Near,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.