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 Comoros and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lou Christie to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Bang On A Can,
Average White Band,
The Mojo Men,
Urselle,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marmalade,
Robert Wyatt,
Index,
Goldenarms,
Livin' Joy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hashim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grey Daturas,
Von Mondo,
The Sonics,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Pus,
The Raincoats,
The Divine Comedy,
Harmonia,
Circle Jerks,
Siglo XX,
Cecil Taylor,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tears for Fears,
Sandy B,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Whodini,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Curtis Mayfield,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Saccharine Trust,
E-Dancer,
Eddi Front,
Public Enemy,
The Barracudas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roxy Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeff Mills,
CMW,
Dark Day,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soft Cell,
Groovy Waters,
Main Source,
Kayak,
Bill Near,
the Normal,
Lindisfarne,
Theoretical Girls,
Todd Terry,
The Happenings,
Robert Görl,
Anthony Braxton,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.