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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Amazonics,
Inner City,
Tropical Tobacco,
Zapp,
Kerri Chandler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Severed Heads,
Connie Case,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
Kenny Larkin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Hashim,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joey Negro,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
Blake Baxter,
Skarface,
Parry Music,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Buckinghams,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Metal Thangz,
Delta 5,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Germs,
Rakim,
The Music Machine,
Franke,
Bobby Byrd,
Swans,
The Durutti Column,
Don Cherry,
Scan 7,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Arcadia,
Das Ding,
Al Stewart,
Reagan Youth,
The Gories,
Little Man,
Avey Tare,
Brothers Johnson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pole,
Aloha Tigers,
Smog,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.