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 Latvia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Laurel Aitken to the disco 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sarah Menescal,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David McCallum,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
H. Thieme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agitation Free,
Clear Light,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dawn Penn,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bad Manners,
Bronski Beat,
Man Parrish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Agent Orange,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
Sun Ra,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
Todd Terry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hoover,
Johnny Clarke,
Minutemen,
Maurizio,
the Bar-Kays,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sam Rivers,
The Mummies,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barry Ungar,
Crime,
JFA,
Popol Vuh,
Bill Near,
Ultra Naté,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Star Department,
Nas,
B.T. Express,
Black Bananas,
X-102,
Aswad,
Von Mondo,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Iggy Pop,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Dead C,
The Walker Brothers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Move,
Davy DMX,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.