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 Uganda and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the grunge 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pantytec,
The Dirtbombs,
Chris Corsano,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marine Girls,
Ludus,
Crime,
Agitation Free,
Pussy Galore,
Con Funk Shun,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Outsiders,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cymande,
Bush Tetras,
Lindisfarne,
Ossler,
ABBA,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pole,
Faraquet,
K-Klass,
Jeff Mills,
Alphaville,
Juan Atkins,
Eve St. Jones,
The Walker Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Interpol,
Freddie Wadling,
Rekid,
Von Mondo,
Motorama,
Ice-T,
Bad Manners,
Rites of Spring,
Scientists,
Robert Hood,
Thompson Twins,
New Order,
The Young Rascals,
Scrapy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reagan Youth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kerri Chandler,
Prince Buster,
Suicide,
Isaac Hayes,
Surgeon,
Sällskapet,
Nils Olav,
Dual Sessions,
the Normal,
Funkadelic,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Starr,
The Blackbyrds,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.