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 Somalia and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacques Brel to the disco 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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Suburban Knight,
H. Thieme,
Fad Gadget,
OOIOO,
The Residents,
Eurythmics,
Cal Tjader,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Byrd,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Minor Threat,
Harmonia,
Buzzcocks,
Anakelly,
Eden Ahbez,
Swans,
The Toasters,
Nas,
Icehouse,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Bananas,
Monks,
Camouflage,
The Dead C,
Depeche Mode,
Radio Birdman,
Dark Day,
Throbbing Gristle,
D'Angelo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Archie Shepp,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultra Naté,
Boredoms,
Pere Ubu,
Second Layer,
Jawbox,
June Days,
F. McDonald,
The Zeros,
Arthur Verocai,
R.M.O.,
Sex Pistols,
Joensuu 1685,
Susan Cadogan,
Mad Mike,
Mars,
The Angels of Light,
The Slits,
Cluster,
The Moody Blues,
Eddi Front,
Slick Rick,
The Fuzztones,
Shuggie Otis,
Das Ding,
Crime,
Supertramp,
ABC,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.