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 Liechtenstein and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Model 500 to the punk 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon 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?
Eve St. Jones,
Gerry Rafferty,
The American Breed,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Toni Rubio,
The Smiths,
Ronnie Foster,
the Sonics,
The Knickerbockers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Soft Cell,
The Angels of Light,
The Searchers,
The Gun Club,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Holt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Starr,
Little Man,
Skriet,
Alice Coltrane,
Fatback Band,
The Red Krayola,
Agent Orange,
The Fall,
Gong,
The Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Basic Channel,
The Motions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eli Mardock,
Urselle,
the Human League,
Essential Logic,
Con Funk Shun,
Idris Muhammad,
Fela Kuti,
Angry Samoans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fat Boys,
ABC,
Desert Stars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Index,
Pulsallama,
Interpol,
Nik Kershaw,
AZ,
Deadbeat,
Gabor Szabo,
Delta 5,
Rotary Connection,
X-101,
Visage,
Roger Hodgson,
the Bar-Kays,
Pantytec,
Moby Grape,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.