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 Singapore and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer 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 Sixth Finger to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Scott Walker,
The Leaves,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skaos,
Laurel Aitken,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aaron Thompson,
Deepchord,
Robert Wyatt,
Banda Bassotti,
Nas,
Sam Rivers,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
Cheater Slicks,
LL Cool J,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lee Hazlewood,
New Order,
The United States of America,
Arcadia,
The Stooges,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Birthday Party,
David Bowie,
Masters at Work,
The Real Kids,
the Association,
Yazoo,
Man Parrish,
Ice-T,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Susan Cadogan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fad Gadget,
Interpol,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hardrive,
Unrelated Segments,
D'Angelo,
Ten City,
Easy Going,
Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wolf Eyes,
The Dirtbombs,
Mark Hollis,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ituana,
Niagra,
Yellowson,
Das Ding,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.