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 Egypt and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 ABBA to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Amon Düül,
Sex Pistols,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Magma,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bluetip,
Scrapy,
The Residents,
Marmalade,
R.M.O.,
Cymande,
Scott Walker,
D'Angelo,
Mandrill,
The Divine Comedy,
Vainqueur,
Half Japanese,
The Searchers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Panda Bear,
The Index,
Sparks,
Royal Trux,
Barbara Tucker,
World's Most,
Ponytail,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tom Boy,
Morten Harket,
Little Man,
Stereo Dub,
Q and Not U,
PIL,
Sam Rivers,
The Young Rascals,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Flag,
10cc,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Seeds,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Selecter,
Archie Shepp,
cv313,
Circle Jerks,
New York Dolls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pet Shop Boys,
Al Stewart,
Basic Channel,
The Fire Engines,
Wally Richardson,
Janne Schatter,
The Count Five,
Outsiders,
Yazoo,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
Blake Baxter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scion,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.