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 Albania and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer 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 Shuggie Otis to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Roxette,
The Blues Magoos,
Tomorrow,
The Fuzztones,
Aloha Tigers,
Eden Ahbez,
Roxy Music,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Kinks,
Barry Ungar,
Jawbox,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jandek,
June of 44,
The Beau Brummels,
Big Daddy Kane,
Morten Harket,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fear,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Grass Roots,
Marc Almond,
The Real Kids,
Ultravox,
CMW,
Malaria!,
New York Dolls,
Minor Threat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Spandau Ballet,
Derrick May,
Blossom Toes,
The Smiths,
Jeru the Damaja,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marvin Gaye,
Lou Christie,
Byron Stingily,
Amon Düül II,
Andrew Hill,
Junior Murvin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Organ,
The Cosmic Jokers,
UT,
Joy Division,
Rekid,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Star Department,
The Slackers,
Fugazi,
Niagra,
Zapp,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang of Four,
ABBA,
Grauzone,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.