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 Russia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Saints to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Cybotron,
Talk Talk,
The Martian,
Deadbeat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amazonics,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon,
Niagra,
The Gap Band,
Ituana,
Tomorrow,
Easy Going,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Godley & Creme,
Minnie Riperton,
Wolf Eyes,
Man Parrish,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Neu!,
Aaron Thompson,
Hasil Adkins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobby Sherman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Main Source,
Scion,
Jacob Miller,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Absolute Body Control,
JFA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pere Ubu,
Lee Hazlewood,
Y Pants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Angry Samoans,
The Beau Brummels,
Sun Ra,
The Doors,
Susan Cadogan,
Leonard Cohen,
Cecil Taylor,
Warsaw,
The Skatalites,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rosa Yemen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Morten Harket,
Lakeside,
Jawbox,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Young Marble Giants,
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
Negative Approach,
Stereo Dub,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.