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 Fiji and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 David McCallum to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Pere Ubu,
Rufus Thomas,
Barbara Tucker,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Black Dice,
The Dirtbombs,
Lindisfarne,
Fatback Band,
The American Breed,
The Slackers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nils Olav,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fuzztones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rosa Yemen,
Steve Hackett,
Carl Craig,
Cluster,
Popol Vuh,
Soft Machine,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Selecter,
Intrusion,
The Fall,
Soulsonic Force,
Smog,
The Cure,
The Evens,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rapeman,
Monolake,
Minutemen,
Scion,
Circle Jerks,
Tomorrow,
Josef K,
Barclay James Harvest,
Easy Going,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric Dolphy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Supertramp,
Reuben Wilson,
UT,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Connie Case,
Bronski Beat,
Kaleidoscope,
Erykah Badu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Shoche,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rod Modell,
Patti Smith,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.