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 Johannesburg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mary Jane Girls to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Toasters,
Gang Starr,
Freddie Wadling,
Wire,
Pierre Henry,
World's Most,
Fatback Band,
Arcadia,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Steve Hackett,
Youth Brigade,
Audionom,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quadrant,
Mars,
These Immortal Souls,
The Blackbyrds,
Schoolly D,
Gabor Szabo,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Don Cherry,
Matthew Halsall,
Faraquet,
The Vogues,
Echospace,
Gang Green,
The Standells,
Minutemen,
Khruangbin,
Kenny Larkin,
Second Layer,
Gang of Four,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ornette Coleman,
Banda Bassotti,
Livin' Joy,
Ronnie Foster,
Donny Hathaway,
Severed Heads,
Robert Hood,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Agent Orange,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The J.B.'s,
The Beau Brummels,
AZ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
K-Klass,
John Coltrane,
Boz Scaggs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Lyres,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Trojans,
Siglo XX,
Marc Almond,
Godley & Creme,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.