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 Dominica and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Television to the dance 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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
Fatback Band,
Whodini,
The Residents,
The Angels of Light,
The Saints,
Von Mondo,
Matthew Bourne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monks,
Basic Channel,
Kurtis Blow,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minor Threat,
The Barracudas,
Ronan,
Alton Ellis,
The Dead C,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Livin' Joy,
Al Stewart,
Amon Düül,
James White and The Blacks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Minnie Riperton,
The Names,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nik Kershaw,
Steve Hackett,
Dark Day,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dirtbombs,
Los Fastidios,
R.M.O.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
a-ha,
Make Up,
Yellowson,
Underground Resistance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ponytail,
Pulsallama,
The Remains,
Harry Pussy,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Inner City,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
Animal Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cure,
Rosa Yemen,
Theoretical Girls,
Barrington Levy,
Stiv Bators,
Roxy Music,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Blake Baxter,
Sex Pistols,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.