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 St Lucia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Blancmange to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The Martian,
Eric Copeland,
Make Up,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glenn Branca,
Motorama,
The Flesh Eaters,
Liliput,
The Mojo Men,
Zapp,
a-ha,
Au Pairs,
Andrew Hill,
Wolf Eyes,
Piero Umiliani,
Tommy Roe,
The J.B.'s,
Altered Images,
Funkadelic,
Mars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Names,
Rotary Connection,
Quando Quango,
Animal Collective,
Inner City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
New York Dolls,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
Unrelated Segments,
Livin' Joy,
Mr. Review,
Dennis Brown,
Minor Threat,
Yellowson,
Matthew Bourne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Warsaw,
Con Funk Shun,
Arthur Verocai,
New Age Steppers,
Slick Rick,
The Smoke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soul Sonic Force,
Avey Tare,
Eve St. Jones,
Circle Jerks,
Kerri Chandler,
Henry Cow,
David McCallum,
Ultra Naté,
June Days,
Charles Mingus,
The Velvet Underground,
T. Rex,
The Real Kids,
Minnie Riperton,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.