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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Lakeside to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Franke,
the Sonics,
Neil Young,
Rufus Thomas,
The Raincoats,
a-ha,
The Remains,
Rites of Spring,
The Count Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Freddie Wadling,
Delon & Dalcan,
Animal Collective,
Radiopuhelimet,
Y Pants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
New Age Steppers,
The Monks,
Simply Red,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masters at Work,
cv313,
Flash Fearless,
Pierre Henry,
Arthur Verocai,
Gabor Szabo,
Cheater Slicks,
Desert Stars,
Lou Christie,
The J.B.'s,
Flamin' Groovies,
Arcadia,
The Divine Comedy,
The Sound,
Roxette,
Scratch Acid,
The Buckinghams,
Cluster,
Sun City Girls,
The Real Kids,
Fela Kuti,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
ABC,
Faust,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Swans,
Monolake,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Motorama,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Walker Brothers,
Nirvana,
The New Christs,
Wally Richardson,
Piero Umiliani,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.