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 Azerbaijan and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Arab on Radar to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Magma,
T. Rex,
Black Sheep,
The Count Five,
Mars,
Andrew Hill,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rod Modell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Infiniti,
Half Japanese,
L. Decosne,
Lightning Bolt,
Swell Maps,
Amon Düül,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Morten Harket,
Don Cherry,
Colin Newman,
Desert Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Soft Cell,
The Moody Blues,
Chris & Cosey,
Con Funk Shun,
Smog,
the Slits,
PIL,
Janne Schatter,
Buzzcocks,
These Immortal Souls,
World's Most,
Freddie Wadling,
B.T. Express,
Sonic Youth,
Man Parrish,
June of 44,
Gang of Four,
Deadbeat,
Minor Threat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Eve St. Jones,
Yellowson,
Gerry Rafferty,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bob Dylan,
The Cowsills,
EPMD,
X-Ray Spex,
Dawn Penn,
The Fuzztones,
Pantytec,
10cc,
Matthew Bourne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tommy Roe,
Aaron Thompson,
The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set.
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.