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 Italy and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ultra Naté to the punk 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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Don Cherry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Dirtbombs,
Outsiders,
The Pretty Things,
Rekid,
Motorama,
The Searchers,
The Electric Prunes,
Lakeside,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ten City,
Rites of Spring,
Gabor Szabo,
Camberwell Now,
Angry Samoans,
Audionom,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
OOIOO,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kas Product,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pere Ubu,
ABC,
ABBA,
Brass Construction,
Sex Pistols,
Duran Duran,
Fluxion,
Ituana,
Porter Ricks,
the Swans,
Icehouse,
Bobby Womack,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Johnny Clarke,
Minny Pops,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bob Dylan,
Henry Cow,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Brick,
Gang of Four,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Popol Vuh,
Heaven 17,
Marvin Gaye,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pulsallama,
X-102,
Nico,
Soft Machine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ronnie Foster,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Evens,
Robert Hood,
The Index,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.