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 and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer 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 Jesus and Mary Chain to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Laurel Aitken,
Eric B and Rakim,
Chrome,
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cameo,
The Fuzztones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Siglo XX,
A Certain Ratio,
The Trojans,
The Knickerbockers,
Tears for Fears,
Inner City,
Ken Boothe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Radio Birdman,
Aural Exciters,
Simply Red,
Andrew Hill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Alice Coltrane,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crash Course in Science,
Agent Orange,
Mark Hollis,
Moebius,
The Victims,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jawbox,
Second Layer,
Joy Division,
Nik Kershaw,
Todd Terry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Susan Cadogan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Grey Daturas,
Oneida,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Icehouse,
Nick Fraelich,
Subhumans,
The Stooges,
Niagra,
Amazonics,
Jimmy McGriff,
Audionom,
Danielle Patucci,
Roy Ayers,
K-Klass,
Erykah Badu,
Swell Maps,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.