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 Antigua and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 T.S.O.L. to the grunge 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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Jeff Lynne,
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Smoke,
Bootsy Collins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Iggy Pop,
Eve St. Jones,
The Misunderstood,
The Cowsills,
China Crisis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kurtis Blow,
Scan 7,
Terry Callier,
The Black Dice,
Thee Headcoats,
Donny Hathaway,
Althea and Donna,
The Toasters,
Vainqueur,
Roxette,
the Normal,
David Bowie,
Gang Green,
Moby Grape,
The Sound,
Wasted Youth,
The Fuzztones,
Archie Shepp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Matthew Halsall,
Groovy Waters,
Glenn Branca,
Ponytail,
Icehouse,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Amon Düül,
Cluster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Blackbyrds,
the Human League,
MC5,
Roger Hodgson,
L. Decosne,
Joyce Sims,
The Mummies,
Alison Limerick,
the Swans,
Niagra,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.