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 Panama and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Kinks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Zapp,
Roxy Music,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
The Sound,
Brass Construction,
The Golliwogs,
ABC,
Surgeon,
Arab on Radar,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Tremeloes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jandek,
The Dead C,
Can,
Soulsonic Force,
Roy Ayers,
Tears for Fears,
Davy DMX,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Boz Scaggs,
Eli Mardock,
Intrusion,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Juan Atkins,
Nik Kershaw,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Hood,
Sight & Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
Wire,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Womack,
Bob Dylan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Human League,
Anthony Braxton,
Oblivians,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sarah Menescal,
Stiv Bators,
The Star Department,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
The Remains,
Albert Ayler,
Country Teasers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Funkadelic,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Knickerbockers,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.