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 Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Icehouse to the crunk 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Cameo,
Rod Modell,
Hoover,
Andrew Hill,
Banda Bassotti,
Ronan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ken Boothe,
Negative Approach,
Stereo Dub,
Lyres,
Skarface,
Soul II Soul,
Agent Orange,
Erasure,
Schoolly D,
Ituana,
Echospace,
Danielle Patucci,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
Zapp,
Grey Daturas,
Accadde A,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nils Olav,
The Wake,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Real Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Monks,
Jeff Mills,
Byron Stingily,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Davy DMX,
Yazoo,
Godley & Creme,
The Music Machine,
Quadrant,
The Victims,
Radiohead,
Iggy Pop,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eddi Front,
ABC,
Blake Baxter,
David Axelrod,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Infiniti,
Intrusion,
Drive Like Jehu,
Steve Hackett,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Associates,
The Seeds,
K-Klass,
A Certain Ratio,
Pierre Henry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.