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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Infiniti to the punk 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Ultravox,
Roxette,
The Move,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nirvana,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Real Kids,
Joey Negro,
Blossom Toes,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yellowson,
Gong,
Boredoms,
Whodini,
Suicide,
Pussy Galore,
Amon Düül II,
Pylon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Al Stewart,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Mummies,
Max Romeo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nik Kershaw,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Golliwogs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Saccharine Trust,
Television Personalities,
Pantytec,
The Cowsills,
Derrick Morgan,
Magma,
China Crisis,
Second Layer,
Deadbeat,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Halsall,
Gichy Dan,
L. Decosne,
Todd Terry,
The Wake,
Tubeway Army,
Minnie Riperton,
Brothers Johnson,
Sound Behaviour,
The Toasters,
AZ,
Gang of Four,
Davy DMX,
The Saints,
Harpers Bizarre,
Average White Band,
Massinfluence,
Black Bananas,
Mad Mike,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Offenders,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.