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 Ireland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 Hardrive to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Copeland,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marc Almond,
Quando Quango,
Malaria!,
Whodini,
The Human League,
X-Ray Spex,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Moody Blues,
Sandy B,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
This Heat,
Al Stewart,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Henry Cow,
The Pretty Things,
The J.B.'s,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Buzzcocks,
Pagans,
Heaven 17,
Matthew Bourne,
Inner City,
Susan Cadogan,
Tears for Fears,
Blake Baxter,
The Cowsills,
Blossom Toes,
Simply Red,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Moon,
Girls At Our Best!,
Supertramp,
Bill Wells,
Yellowson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gories,
Con Funk Shun,
Moby Grape,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blackbyrds,
The Associates,
Leonard Cohen,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
B.T. Express,
The Victims,
X-101,
Index,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Interpol,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ice-T,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Amon Düül,
Scientists,
Scrapy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.