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 Equatorial Guinea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Normal to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Howard Jones,
Swans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crime,
The Fuzztones,
Yaz,
Kerrie Biddell,
Max Romeo,
Scott Walker,
Jawbox,
The Golliwogs,
Malaria!,
Man Eating Sloth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
This Heat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Pop Group,
Blossom Toes,
Sugar Minott,
The Grass Roots,
Ronnie Foster,
The Move,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Curtis Mayfield,
Juan Atkins,
Skarface,
Youth Brigade,
Vainqueur,
Porter Ricks,
Peter and Kerry,
Skaos,
OOIOO,
Adolescents,
Ponytail,
John Lydon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kaleidoscope,
Jeff Lynne,
Cheater Slicks,
Liliput,
Dual Sessions,
B.T. Express,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jandek,
Boz Scaggs,
Magazine,
The Young Rascals,
The Martian,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minutemen,
Country Teasers,
Kas Product,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amon Düül II,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Skatalites,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gun Club,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.