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 Nauru and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 cv313 to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
The Buckinghams,
Black Bananas,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
a-ha,
Hashim,
The Names,
Warsaw,
Angry Samoans,
The Remains,
Index,
Reagan Youth,
Outsiders,
John Lydon,
Soft Cell,
Cameo,
Glenn Branca,
Steve Hackett,
Soulsonic Force,
EPMD,
Panda Bear,
Rapeman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pere Ubu,
Rekid,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
LL Cool J,
10cc,
The Busters,
Thompson Twins,
Duran Duran,
Robert Görl,
Harry Pussy,
Patti Smith,
Joyce Sims,
Lindisfarne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
AZ,
Fad Gadget,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Brand Nubian,
Aural Exciters,
Television,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radio Birdman,
Bootsy Collins,
The Seeds,
Symarip,
Funky Four + One,
Pet Shop Boys,
Amazonics,
Sound Behaviour,
Grey Daturas,
Peter & Gordon,
John Cale,
the Slits,
Wings,
Amon Düül,
Crispy Ambulance,
Robert Hood,
Soul Sonic Force,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.