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 Armenia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fortunes to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Rekid,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Clarke,
Crooked Eye,
Underground Resistance,
Excepter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radio Birdman,
Sex Pistols,
Television,
Bob Dylan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Country Teasers,
Scion,
Dual Sessions,
Stiv Bators,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Y Pants,
Bang On A Can,
Black Pus,
Amon Düül,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eddi Front,
Ornette Coleman,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
Wasted Youth,
The J.B.'s,
Kaleidoscope,
UT,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Carl Craig,
Niagra,
OOIOO,
Jimmy McGriff,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zapp,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
James White and The Blacks,
The Five Americans,
Nik Kershaw,
Agitation Free,
Robert Görl,
Von Mondo,
DJ Style,
Spandau Ballet,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Knickerbockers,
The Saints,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Wyatt,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Lynne,
The Beau Brummels,
Tres Demented,
Connie Case,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pylon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.