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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Sao Paulo.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Pretty Things to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Marine Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Lungfish,
Boredoms,
Y Pants,
The Moody Blues,
E-Dancer,
Mad Mike,
Yazoo,
Funkadelic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Second Layer,
Loose Ends,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aural Exciters,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharoah Sanders,
X-101,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Associates,
The Black Dice,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Morten Harket,
10cc,
Joensuu 1685,
a-ha,
Junior Murvin,
Howard Jones,
The Evens,
Black Moon,
Gichy Dan,
Graham Central Station,
Bush Tetras,
Brick,
Andrew Hill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
L. Decosne,
Scientists,
Make Up,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crime,
Bad Manners,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DNA,
Arthur Verocai,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
Little Man,
Lyres,
Pere Ubu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Public Image Ltd.,
PIL,
Albert Ayler,
Lalann,
Schoolly D,
Gang of Four,
The Motions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Knickerbockers,
Qualms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott Heron,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.