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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 The Alarm Clocks to the dance 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minutemen,
Hashim,
The Birthday Party,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Newcleus,
JFA,
Boz Scaggs,
Sparks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Lydon,
Idris Muhammad,
Rhythm & Sound,
Surgeon,
Sixth Finger,
Negative Approach,
The Selecter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mandrill,
Average White Band,
the Normal,
Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dead C,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
U.S. Maple,
Cameo,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
Angry Samoans,
Eden Ahbez,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yellowson,
The Five Americans,
UT,
Sun Ra,
Rosa Yemen,
Severed Heads,
The J.B.'s,
Con Funk Shun,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Audionom,
Magazine,
The Last Poets,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Sherman,
Morten Harket,
Quando Quango,
The Moleskins,
Eric Copeland,
The Buckinghams,
Sound Behaviour,
Mars,
Jerry's Kids,
Grey Daturas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
A Certain Ratio,
John Holt,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.