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 Colombia and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
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 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 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 Byron Stingily to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Blancmange,
Marcia Griffiths,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cramps,
The Music Machine,
OOIOO,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Invisible,
Davy DMX,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
The Skatalites,
Arthur Verocai,
Monolake,
Bill Near,
Infiniti,
Sällskapet,
Lakeside,
Banda Bassotti,
the Normal,
Graham Central Station,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alton Ellis,
Erykah Badu,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Clarke,
Harry Pussy,
Harmonia,
Smog,
E-Dancer,
Excepter,
Suburban Knight,
Section 25,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
MC5,
Rosa Yemen,
Scion,
DJ Sneak,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
Spandau Ballet,
The Birthday Party,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eddi Front,
Bauhaus,
Blossom Toes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dave Gahan,
Accadde A,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Dave Clark Five,
Byron Stingily,
Peter and Kerry,
Bush Tetras,
Maurizio,
Donny Hathaway,
Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Peter & Gordon,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.