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 Tuvalu and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 Hong Kong and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Al Stewart to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
The Smoke,
Ultimate Spinach,
Thompson Twins,
Black Flag,
Jandek,
L. Decosne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
New Age Steppers,
Erasure,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bush Tetras,
Graham Central Station,
Al Stewart,
Ornette Coleman,
Letta Mbulu,
Sonny Sharrock,
Buzzcocks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pere Ubu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Quadrant,
Flipper,
The Fuzztones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Newcleus,
A Certain Ratio,
Roxette,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Average White Band,
Black Pus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Neon Judgement,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arcadia,
Bob Dylan,
Spoonie Gee,
Wolf Eyes,
The Kinks,
Adolescents,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nico,
Desert Stars,
Scott Walker,
Lower 48,
Inner City,
D'Angelo,
Dawn Penn,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABC,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delta 5,
Motorama,
Masters at Work,
The Index,
Sällskapet,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.