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 Peru and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar 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 Gabor Szabo 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
New Age Steppers,
Bluetip,
Sällskapet,
Amazonics,
The Sound,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fugs,
The Dead C,
Scott Walker,
The Velvet Underground,
Young Marble Giants,
Lee Hazlewood,
Piero Umiliani,
Henry Cow,
Whodini,
Quando Quango,
Buzzcocks,
Boz Scaggs,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Golliwogs,
Jeff Lynne,
Albert Ayler,
Glenn Branca,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
D'Angelo,
Freddie Wadling,
Interpol,
Au Pairs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deadbeat,
Pierre Henry,
Wire,
Eyeless In Gaza,
La Düsseldorf,
Soulsonic Force,
Matthew Bourne,
Can,
Danielle Patucci,
Skaos,
Lightning Bolt,
The Mummies,
Soul II Soul,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantaleimon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scrapy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sarah Menescal,
Icehouse,
Malaria!,
Moebius,
Bootsy Collins,
Ossler,
Roxette,
The Skatalites,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Hill,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.