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 Panama and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Donald Fagen 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 Glambeats Corp. to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yusef Lateef,
Bobbi Humphrey,
A Certain Ratio,
Magazine,
Hoover,
Delta 5,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bad Manners,
Ronnie Foster,
The Buckinghams,
Mary Jane Girls,
Icehouse,
The Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
Rapeman,
Judy Mowatt,
The Mojo Men,
Amazonics,
Main Source,
Goldenarms,
Marmalade,
Brick,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Music Machine,
Ultra Naté,
D'Angelo,
ABC,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Groovy Waters,
Jawbox,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eddi Front,
Alice Coltrane,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Pylon,
The Names,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Average White Band,
Fear,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scion,
Steve Hackett,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Whodini,
Alison Limerick,
Cybotron,
Fad Gadget,
Erasure,
Reuben Wilson,
Skriet,
Brothers Johnson,
Blake Baxter,
Can,
Ronan,
Shoche,
Moebius,
Marcia Griffiths,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.