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 Uzbekistan and from Milan.
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 Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gerry Rafferty to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Nirvana,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Birthday Party,
Howard Jones,
U.S. Maple,
MDC,
Porter Ricks,
Jawbox,
The Monochrome Set,
Swell Maps,
Fat Boys,
Drexciya,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dead Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
One Last Wish,
The Divine Comedy,
Young Marble Giants,
Lalann,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Smoke,
Ronan,
X-Ray Spex,
Minutemen,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
Saccharine Trust,
The Walker Brothers,
The Saints,
The Victims,
Skarface,
Lindisfarne,
Wally Richardson,
Barry Ungar,
Y Pants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Happenings,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Funky Four + One,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
The Fugs,
The Gladiators,
The Beau Brummels,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Letta Mbulu,
Jimmy McGriff,
Amon Düül,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Maurizio,
Quando Quango,
The Martian,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fortunes,
Flash Fearless,
The Real Kids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wasted Youth,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.