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 Mozambique and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Erasure to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
The Mummies,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ponytail,
Rufus Thomas,
Silicon Teens,
Brand Nubian,
Connie Case,
Brass Construction,
Television,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The American Breed,
Jacques Brel,
The Grass Roots,
The Blues Magoos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Pus,
June of 44,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeru the Damaja,
Loose Ends,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Don Cherry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Newcleus,
Josef K,
Eden Ahbez,
Lou Christie,
Bluetip,
Yellowson,
Ken Boothe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Normal,
The Residents,
The Neon Judgement,
Kaleidoscope,
Pylon,
World's Most,
The Smiths,
the Association,
Skriet,
Leonard Cohen,
Howard Jones,
Livin' Joy,
Grey Daturas,
Lightning Bolt,
The Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Camberwell Now,
KRS-One,
Boredoms,
Radiohead,
Joe Smooth,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.