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 Colombia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Mandrill to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Lungfish,
the Association,
Sex Pistols,
Shuggie Otis,
Dawn Penn,
Skarface,
Loose Ends,
Heaven 17,
MC5,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Remains,
Stiv Bators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Accadde A,
Cluster,
Bush Tetras,
Slick Rick,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
R.M.O.,
James White and The Blacks,
Nils Olav,
Panda Bear,
Mandrill,
Angry Samoans,
Tres Demented,
Organ,
Jeff Lynne,
The American Breed,
This Heat,
The Count Five,
Zero Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
K-Klass,
Man Parrish,
the Human League,
Wings,
Alphaville,
Arab on Radar,
Don Cherry,
Piero Umiliani,
Pylon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Patti Smith,
Danielle Patucci,
Main Source,
Ossler,
Television,
The Last Poets,
The Durutti Column,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rekid,
Freddie Wadling,
Shoche,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rosa Yemen,
Kevin Saunderson,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.