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 Gambia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb 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 The Standells to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Glenn Branca,
Quadrant,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sex Pistols,
Neil Young,
Scott Walker,
Lindisfarne,
Slave,
Fela Kuti,
Procol Harum,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hot Snakes,
Leonard Cohen,
Lucky Dragons,
The Moleskins,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
The Doors,
Rapeman,
Los Fastidios,
Suburban Knight,
The Selecter,
Pylon,
The Gun Club,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Music Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Circle Jerks,
FM Einheit,
Roxette,
Loose Ends,
The Slits,
Black Bananas,
Kayak,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rufus Thomas,
The Motions,
Johnny Osbourne,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ornette Coleman,
Spandau Ballet,
Saccharine Trust,
Mission of Burma,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Roy Ayers,
Joe Finger,
Tomorrow,
Roxy Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Litter,
Jeru the Damaja,
In Retrospect,
Steve Hackett,
Television Personalities,
Kool Moe Dee,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
PIL,
Spoonie Gee,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.