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 Guinea-Bissau and from Tokyo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet 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 Index to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Clear Light,
Ultra Naté,
The Alarm Clocks,
UT,
Traffic Nightmare,
DJ Style,
Grauzone,
Hashim,
X-102,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fire Engines,
The Toasters,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang On A Can,
Jeff Lynne,
The Zeros,
Gang Green,
Al Stewart,
New Order,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Terry,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Standells,
Boredoms,
Con Funk Shun,
Peter & Gordon,
Jandek,
Stereo Dub,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Porter Ricks,
Eden Ahbez,
Chris Corsano,
Dead Boys,
Au Pairs,
the Sonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Guru Guru,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Normal,
Scion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dual Sessions,
Yazoo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Sound,
Marc Almond,
The Divine Comedy,
The Walker Brothers,
The Evens,
Delta 5,
Lalann,
Marine Girls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Pretty Things,
Bronski Beat,
Khruangbin,
The Kinks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.