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 Costa Rica and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord 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 Bill Wells to the grime 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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scan 7,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soul II Soul,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fire Engines,
Anakelly,
Bill Wells,
Pylon,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Remains,
Severed Heads,
Black Flag,
Joe Finger,
Eddi Front,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Theoretical Girls,
The Trojans,
The Zeros,
Fela Kuti,
Chrome,
The Real Kids,
Aaron Thompson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The J.B.'s,
Outsiders,
The Vogues,
Kevin Saunderson,
Faraquet,
Bang On A Can,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Depeche Mode,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Near,
Blancmange,
Bush Tetras,
AZ,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minnie Riperton,
Harry Pussy,
The Tremeloes,
K-Klass,
Wally Richardson,
Sixth Finger,
Eurythmics,
Radiohead,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Massinfluence,
Fugazi,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
The Walker Brothers,
The Victims,
John Cale,
Black Moon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pere Ubu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.