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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe 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 Pharoah Sanders to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Monks,
Drexciya,
Joe Finger,
Blancmange,
Second Layer,
Nico,
Brand Nubian,
The Durutti Column,
Lindisfarne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Echospace,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Faust,
The Move,
DJ Style,
Khruangbin,
Suburban Knight,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pierre Henry,
Hashim,
Eric Copeland,
The Velvet Underground,
F. McDonald,
Minutemen,
Mars,
Roy Ayers,
Visage,
John Foxx,
The Names,
the Swans,
Television Personalities,
The Standells,
Morten Harket,
The American Breed,
Marvin Gaye,
Leonard Cohen,
Moebius,
The Happenings,
Eddi Front,
Shuggie Otis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Deadbeat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Toasters,
Groovy Waters,
UT,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ossler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eve St. Jones,
Alphaville,
Liliput,
In Retrospect,
Althea and Donna,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
Soul II Soul,
Nils Olav,
Deakin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crispy Ambulance,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.