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 Jordan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 Graham Central Station to the electroclash 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Mission of Burma,
Maurizio,
Organ,
Guru Guru,
The Mummies,
Kurtis Blow,
Ornette Coleman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gichy Dan,
E-Dancer,
Surgeon,
The Index,
Eric Copeland,
KRS-One,
Scion,
X-101,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet,
Soul Sonic Force,
Easy Going,
Youth Brigade,
Man Eating Sloth,
These Immortal Souls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mark Hollis,
The Pretty Things,
Theoretical Girls,
Magma,
Minnie Riperton,
John Lydon,
Intrusion,
Echospace,
Monks,
Model 500,
Gang Gang Dance,
K-Klass,
Radiohead,
Sandy B,
Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
Pantaleimon,
Wasted Youth,
Von Mondo,
OOIOO,
Wally Richardson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiopuhelimet,
Peter & Gordon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Laurel Aitken,
Brand Nubian,
Joe Smooth,
Bronski Beat,
The Music Machine,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
The Tremeloes,
Joey Negro,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.