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 China and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manila.
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 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 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 Kas Product to the rap 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nils Olav,
Flash Fearless,
Stockholm Monsters,
Outsiders,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Buckinghams,
the Germs,
Mo-Dettes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Donny Hathaway,
Camberwell Now,
The Happenings,
The Fall,
The Vogues,
Hardrive,
Eden Ahbez,
Warren Ellis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Human League,
Wally Richardson,
Black Sheep,
Ornette Coleman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joey Negro,
This Heat,
June Days,
Bizarre Inc.,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hasil Adkins,
Alton Ellis,
The Residents,
Grey Daturas,
Basic Channel,
Eve St. Jones,
John Cale,
The Five Americans,
Al Stewart,
The Fire Engines,
Byron Stingily,
Panda Bear,
Surgeon,
Yellowson,
The American Breed,
Eli Mardock,
Josef K,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tomorrow,
E-Dancer,
The Blackbyrds,
Delta 5,
The Divine Comedy,
Thee Headcoats,
Warsaw,
F. McDonald,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.