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 Solomon Islands and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Music Machine to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
ABC,
Wally Richardson,
a-ha,
David McCallum,
Shuggie Otis,
Thompson Twins,
Suicide,
Barry Ungar,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Johnny Clarke,
Second Layer,
The Barracudas,
John Foxx,
Au Pairs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-Ray Spex,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bill Wells,
Babytalk,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Nick Fraelich,
Make Up,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blues Magoos,
Pussy Galore,
Aloha Tigers,
Echospace,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dark Day,
Fatback Band,
The Skatalites,
Graham Central Station,
Rakim,
Niagra,
Rosa Yemen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Stiv Bators,
The Fuzztones,
Ronan,
The Cowsills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scratch Acid,
The Gap Band,
Minnie Riperton,
The Raincoats,
Tommy Roe,
Symarip,
The Count Five,
Sugar Minott,
Index,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Los Fastidios,
Eric Copeland,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.