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 Nauru and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Albert Ayler to the rock 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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Sherman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gastr Del Sol,
Terrestrial Tones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Grandmaster Flash,
Erykah Badu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Yaz,
Radio Birdman,
The Martian,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Last Poets,
The Monks,
Slave,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Matthew Halsall,
Subhumans,
Ludus,
Maurizio,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlback,
Severed Heads,
New Age Steppers,
The Young Rascals,
Khruangbin,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Association,
Rekid,
The New Christs,
Stiv Bators,
Dawn Penn,
Newcleus,
The Slackers,
The Moleskins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eddi Front,
John Foxx,
Procol Harum,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kayak,
Marcia Griffiths,
Au Pairs,
Bob Dylan,
Carl Craig,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ice-T,
Average White Band,
Mr. Review,
Circle Jerks,
Zapp,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Sound,
Surgeon,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Joyce Sims,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.