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 Oman and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Leaves to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
The Wake,
Trumans Water,
Matthew Halsall,
Visage,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wire,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Nirvana,
Brick,
The Beau Brummels,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Joe Finger,
Thompson Twins,
Michelle Simonal,
Amon Düül II,
OOIOO,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Monochrome Set,
Y Pants,
Erasure,
Chris Corsano,
Scott Walker,
Gang Green,
Excepter,
Janne Schatter,
Sugar Minott,
Lalann,
Kenny Larkin,
The Stooges,
Faraquet,
Can,
ABBA,
Japan,
ABC,
The Tremeloes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Half Japanese,
Tears for Fears,
Pere Ubu,
Bronski Beat,
Godley & Creme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wasted Youth,
Sixth Finger,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cluster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radio Birdman,
MDC,
Ultimate Spinach,
L. Decosne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Television,
Black Pus,
Radiopuhelimet,
Unrelated Segments,
The Searchers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.