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 Nigeria and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bluetip,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Angels of Light,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lindisfarne,
Underground Resistance,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cybotron,
The Vogues,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Doobie Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Quando Quango,
Amon Düül II,
K-Klass,
Scrapy,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Wake,
Severed Heads,
Neu!,
Boz Scaggs,
Main Source,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
the Swans,
Rekid,
Saccharine Trust,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Funky Four + One,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marmalade,
The Remains,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Faraquet,
B.T. Express,
Gong,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Erasure,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Golliwogs,
Japan,
Pylon,
The Zeros,
Arthur Verocai,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bad Manners,
Can,
Bill Near,
Colin Newman,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.