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 Grenada and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 David McCallum to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
Bad Manners,
Ituana,
The Fire Engines,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
Black Flag,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Leaves,
Rotary Connection,
Animal Collective,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eve St. Jones,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Darondo,
Bob Dylan,
Desert Stars,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cramps,
Stereo Dub,
Steve Hackett,
Unrelated Segments,
The Litter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Connie Case,
Agent Orange,
Maurizio,
Wally Richardson,
Cecil Taylor,
T.S.O.L.,
Brass Construction,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Suicide,
UT,
Soft Machine,
AZ,
The Cure,
The Electric Prunes,
Mad Mike,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fall,
The Five Americans,
Theoretical Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Magma,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Mills,
Hot Snakes,
Gichy Dan,
Ponytail,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Terry Callier,
Mission of Burma,
Pylon,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.