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 Georgia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The J.B.'s to the grime 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Gang Green,
Desert Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Human League,
Harry Pussy,
the Human League,
Au Pairs,
Lyres,
Aswad,
Animal Collective,
The Pretty Things,
Mad Mike,
Lou Reed,
Yazoo,
Jacob Miller,
Graham Central Station,
The Happenings,
Marvin Gaye,
Gabor Szabo,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Visage,
Blancmange,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
Liliput,
The Searchers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Red Krayola,
Al Stewart,
Public Image Ltd.,
The American Breed,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Joe Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Residents,
Motorama,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Walker Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
Hashim,
Lebanon Hanover,
Talk Talk,
Rotary Connection,
Country Teasers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Niagra,
X-101,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oneida,
John Coltrane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Reuben Wilson,
Janne Schatter,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.