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 Sierra Leone and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Joyce Sims to the crunk 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Glenn Branca,
Reagan Youth,
Anakelly,
Echospace,
Wolf Eyes,
The Grass Roots,
Spoonie Gee,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Trumans Water,
Radio Birdman,
Monolake,
In Retrospect,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bush Tetras,
Tres Demented,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rosa Yemen,
New York Dolls,
Joe Smooth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultravox,
Quando Quango,
Rufus Thomas,
Boz Scaggs,
Unrelated Segments,
The Shadows of Knight,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gerry Rafferty,
U.S. Maple,
The J.B.'s,
Junior Murvin,
Mad Mike,
The Associates,
Television,
The Angels of Light,
MDC,
Nirvana,
Lakeside,
Roger Hodgson,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Malaria!,
Dorothy Ashby,
H. Thieme,
Goldenarms,
E-Dancer,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Avey Tare,
The Velvet Underground,
Yazoo,
Stereo Dub,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tom Boy,
New Age Steppers,
Arab on Radar,
Camberwell Now,
Jimmy McGriff,
Michelle Simonal,
Stetsasonic,
Fat Boys,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.