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 Antigua and from Toronto.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro 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 Mandrill to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
These Immortal Souls,
The Standells,
Nils Olav,
Adolescents,
Toni Rubio,
Neil Young,
The Searchers,
John Foxx,
kango's stein massive,
Bronski Beat,
L. Decosne,
The Velvet Underground,
Throbbing Gristle,
H. Thieme,
The Grass Roots,
Reagan Youth,
Oneida,
Thee Headcoats,
The Litter,
Arthur Verocai,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fugs,
X-Ray Spex,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Banda Bassotti,
Amon Düül II,
Mark Hollis,
Cal Tjader,
Marmalade,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Lynne,
Wings,
The Leaves,
The Human League,
Jerry's Kids,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
Skarface,
Second Layer,
The Names,
Lalann,
Michelle Simonal,
Shoche,
Duran Duran,
Niagra,
The Walker Brothers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
F. McDonald,
Roger Hodgson,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Moon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Godley & Creme,
Althea and Donna,
Spoonie Gee,
Wolf Eyes,
Monks,
David McCallum,
Big Daddy Kane,
Royal Trux,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.