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 Netherlands and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rites of Spring to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Franke,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suicide,
Soft Cell,
Eric Dolphy,
Banda Bassotti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Frankie Knuckles,
Inner City,
Curtis Mayfield,
Can,
Mars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
Drexciya,
The Searchers,
Michelle Simonal,
Symarip,
X-Ray Spex,
Jesper Dahlback,
Panda Bear,
Janne Schatter,
Kaleidoscope,
Hoover,
Scan 7,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalann,
Roy Ayers,
Silicon Teens,
cv313,
Buzzcocks,
Man Parrish,
Shoche,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bronski Beat,
The Human League,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Five Americans,
Connie Case,
Siglo XX,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gladiators,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Youth Brigade,
Index,
Steve Hackett,
Yaz,
Parry Music,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Stooges,
The Music Machine,
Jimmy McGriff,
Peter and Kerry,
The Litter,
Howard Jones,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Severed Heads,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.