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 Luxembourg and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the rock 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Average White Band,
Peter and Kerry,
The Wake,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
Kas Product,
Fluxion,
The Durutti Column,
Oblivians,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soft Cell,
Scan 7,
8 Eyed Spy,
Prince Buster,
Rod Modell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Infiniti,
The Grass Roots,
Man Parrish,
Blancmange,
Bill Wells,
John Foxx,
Grey Daturas,
the Bar-Kays,
One Last Wish,
The Velvet Underground,
Section 25,
Pulsallama,
Arthur Verocai,
Tomorrow,
Black Bananas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gang Gang Dance,
Blossom Toes,
Minor Threat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Colin Newman,
Bobby Womack,
Swell Maps,
Rufus Thomas,
48th St. Collective,
Tommy Roe,
Moby Grape,
Deepchord,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Symarip,
Sex Pistols,
Angry Samoans,
The Black Dice,
Khruangbin,
Gerry Rafferty,
Television,
Altered Images,
Ken Boothe,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.