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 Mauritania and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Theoretical Girls to the rap 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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Sugar Minott,
The Searchers,
Lou Christie,
Mars,
Ronan,
The Dirtbombs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Goldenarms,
Fad Gadget,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Names,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Offenders,
Mr. Review,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Anakelly,
Swell Maps,
Quadrant,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Max Romeo,
Ultimate Spinach,
kango's stein massive,
Yaz,
Robert Wyatt,
Cameo,
D'Angelo,
Slave,
Fat Boys,
Parry Music,
Main Source,
Tim Buckley,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mantronix,
The Shadows of Knight,
Glenn Branca,
Charles Mingus,
A Certain Ratio,
New Age Steppers,
Blossom Toes,
OOIOO,
The Neon Judgement,
Darondo,
DJ Style,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minny Pops,
Adolescents,
Matthew Halsall,
Bill Wells,
Junior Murvin,
Mission of Burma,
Monks,
Television,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Intrusion,
PIL,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harmonia,
Procol Harum,
Graham Central Station,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.