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 Malawi and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 theremin 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 Heaven 17 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Henry Cow,
Television Personalities,
Tears for Fears,
Essential Logic,
Al Stewart,
Pantaleimon,
Procol Harum,
DJ Sneak,
Man Parrish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slick Rick,
The Cramps,
Stockholm Monsters,
Howard Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Supertramp,
Gabor Szabo,
The Stooges,
Ronnie Foster,
Anakelly,
Jeru the Damaja,
Danielle Patucci,
David Axelrod,
Roxette,
the Association,
Accadde A,
Joy Division,
Bob Dylan,
Qualms,
Eli Mardock,
Eric B and Rakim,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fugs,
Lindisfarne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Skriet,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Funky Four + One,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sight & Sound,
Brand Nubian,
Sonic Youth,
the Human League,
The Electric Prunes,
The Offenders,
Graham Central Station,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Holt,
Inner City,
The Evens,
Ornette Coleman,
Public Enemy,
Fear,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lalann,
Agent Orange,
Parry Music,
Black Moon,
Massinfluence,
Joe Finger,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.