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 Slovakia and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Lucky Dragons to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
June Days,
Kurtis Blow,
Joe Finger,
Porter Ricks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ludus,
Organ,
the Association,
Drexciya,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultimate Spinach,
R.M.O.,
Jandek,
The Standells,
Idris Muhammad,
E-Dancer,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Desert Stars,
Tim Buckley,
The Pop Group,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Victims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Skriet,
Susan Cadogan,
Derrick May,
Dead Boys,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Isaac Hayes,
The Busters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rakim,
Gastr Del Sol,
Althea and Donna,
Marc Almond,
The Leaves,
Rotary Connection,
Royal Trux,
Chris Corsano,
Hot Snakes,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Techniques,
Dave Gahan,
Steve Hackett,
The Cramps,
Y Pants,
Youth Brigade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roy Ayers,
Eric Dolphy,
Mars,
The Moleskins,
Robert Hood,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
Heaven 17,
Freddie Wadling,
David McCallum,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.