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 Mongolia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 London and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marvin Gaye to the funk 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun City Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Pole,
Amon Düül,
Hashim,
The Electric Prunes,
Brick,
Mad Mike,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang Starr,
Index,
Joe Smooth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bill Wells,
Lalann,
The Fire Engines,
Andrew Hill,
Kurtis Blow,
Kerrie Biddell,
PIL,
Sandy B,
Youth Brigade,
Freddie Wadling,
F. McDonald,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thompson Twins,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cramps,
The Techniques,
Cheater Slicks,
Nico,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DNA,
Michelle Simonal,
The Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Howard Jones,
Danielle Patucci,
Malaria!,
Magma,
Chris & Cosey,
The Blues Magoos,
DJ Style,
The Litter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rekid,
Whodini,
Second Layer,
Ultimate Spinach,
Severed Heads,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Slick Rick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Television Personalities,
John Lydon,
the Germs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Barbara Tucker,
Marcia Griffiths,
Yellowson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Spandau Ballet,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.