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 Qatar and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum 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 Rod Modell to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Motorama,
The Sonics,
Aswad,
Crime,
Ornette Coleman,
Agitation Free,
Mandrill,
Malaria!,
U.S. Maple,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Danielle Patucci,
Bobby Byrd,
Con Funk Shun,
Slave,
The Knickerbockers,
Camouflage,
Steve Hackett,
Cal Tjader,
Parry Music,
The Mojo Men,
Althea and Donna,
R.M.O.,
The Smoke,
Ronnie Foster,
Barry Ungar,
L. Decosne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Angels of Light,
The Victims,
Fad Gadget,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Monks,
Jeff Mills,
Von Mondo,
Surgeon,
Skriet,
Procol Harum,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pussy Galore,
Marine Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
The Searchers,
The Durutti Column,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Vogues,
Robert Görl,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cybotron,
Massinfluence,
the Germs,
Michelle Simonal,
Roger Hodgson,
Harry Pussy,
Skarface,
Lakeside,
The Sound,
Babytalk,
Nirvana,
Nik Kershaw,
Mission of Burma,
Amazonics,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.