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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ultimate Spinach 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Roger Hodgson,
Motorama,
The Pretty Things,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Toasters,
The Fugs,
Grauzone,
Accadde A,
Eurythmics,
Rekid,
Rufus Thomas,
The Skatalites,
Toni Rubio,
The Birthday Party,
AZ,
Infiniti,
Johnny Clarke,
Tom Boy,
Deadbeat,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
OOIOO,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dawn Penn,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Neon Judgement,
Derrick May,
Ultimate Spinach,
Yusef Lateef,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deepchord,
Marine Girls,
Organ,
Tommy Roe,
Soft Cell,
Marmalade,
Barbara Tucker,
Mars,
Ituana,
The Walker Brothers,
Lindisfarne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Lynne,
The Techniques,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tim Buckley,
Bronski Beat,
The Buckinghams,
Los Fastidios,
Y Pants,
The American Breed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Massinfluence,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
Porter Ricks,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.