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 Germany and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Electric Prunes to the rap 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dennis Brown,
Mad Mike,
John Lydon,
Reuben Wilson,
Connie Case,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Bar-Kays,
Stetsasonic,
Chris Corsano,
Bill Near,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Make Up,
Iggy Pop,
Pet Shop Boys,
Visage,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moss Icon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Mars,
Idris Muhammad,
Zero Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Nick Fraelich,
Eden Ahbez,
the Association,
Blancmange,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Neil Young,
Zapp,
Sarah Menescal,
Faust,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
DJ Style,
Todd Rundgren,
Sister Nancy,
Al Stewart,
The Moleskins,
Whodini,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
10cc,
Scion,
Fluxion,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Audionom,
Archie Shepp,
Robert Wyatt,
Leonard Cohen,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
The Trojans,
Tears for Fears,
Suburban Knight,
Simply Red,
cv313,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.