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 Madagascar and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Kinks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Raincoats,
Henry Cow,
Ronan,
Fela Kuti,
Soft Cell,
Newcleus,
Section 25,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Donny Hathaway,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Vladislav Delay,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cure,
Mantronix,
Tim Buckley,
the Human League,
Rapeman,
Spoonie Gee,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Make Up,
Eddi Front,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tommy Roe,
The Fortunes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Wake,
The Count Five,
The Misunderstood,
Pagans,
the Slits,
Little Man,
Intrusion,
Lou Christie,
The Martian,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dawn Penn,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Blackbyrds,
B.T. Express,
Kerrie Biddell,
Oblivians,
New Age Steppers,
Infiniti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Silicon Teens,
Radiopuhelimet,
Aaron Thompson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Adolescents,
Buzzcocks,
Joey Negro,
Lakeside,
MC5,
Brass Construction,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New Order,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.