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 Maldives and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Organ to the grunge 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultra Naté,
Deakin,
The American Breed,
D'Angelo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Popol Vuh,
Laurel Aitken,
Motorama,
Marcia Griffiths,
Throbbing Gristle,
Q and Not U,
Letta Mbulu,
The Leaves,
The Offenders,
Gang Green,
Scrapy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Human League,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Make Up,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Godley & Creme,
Tomorrow,
Oneida,
Funkadelic,
Erasure,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lalo Schifrin,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
Monolake,
The Motions,
The Smoke,
Niagra,
Crash Course in Science,
The Move,
The Standells,
Outsiders,
Donny Hathaway,
Gabor Szabo,
The Names,
The Raincoats,
Dark Day,
Thompson Twins,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front,
Sun City Girls,
Monks,
Spoonie Gee,
John Foxx,
Derrick Morgan,
Qualms,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Stooges,
MC5,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.