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 Syria and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Gang Green to the crunk 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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minor Threat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Cure,
Lungfish,
Urselle,
Mr. Review,
X-101,
Gong,
Aaron Thompson,
Magazine,
Easy Going,
Davy DMX,
Malaria!,
Flamin' Groovies,
Yaz,
The Electric Prunes,
DJ Sneak,
Oblivians,
Deadbeat,
The American Breed,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Half Japanese,
Scratch Acid,
Babytalk,
The Barracudas,
48th St. Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Lower 48,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Skriet,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Durutti Column,
Underground Resistance,
Flash Fearless,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rakim,
Black Pus,
Dark Day,
Todd Rundgren,
David Axelrod,
Second Layer,
Soft Machine,
Al Stewart,
The Index,
Prince Buster,
Ohio Players,
Los Fastidios,
Sarah Menescal,
Scion,
Depeche Mode,
Bob Dylan,
Banda Bassotti,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rekid,
The J.B.'s,
Procol Harum,
Con Funk Shun,
Alison Limerick,
Tropical Tobacco,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.