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 Lesotho and from Jakarta.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Theoretical Girls to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Funky Four + One,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arab on Radar,
Sound Behaviour,
U.S. Maple,
Black Bananas,
Sugar Minott,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Shoche,
the Swans,
Nico,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barbara Tucker,
The Last Poets,
Scratch Acid,
The Red Krayola,
Terry Callier,
Deadbeat,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mission of Burma,
Easy Going,
The Techniques,
Japan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Warsaw,
Robert Wyatt,
Joy Division,
The Grass Roots,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Smoke,
Model 500,
Yaz,
Ken Boothe,
The Offenders,
Angry Samoans,
Bush Tetras,
Pierre Henry,
Swell Maps,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sex Pistols,
The Music Machine,
X-102,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Trumans Water,
Charles Mingus,
Basic Channel,
Bob Dylan,
Spoonie Gee,
Oneida,
Outsiders,
Robert Görl,
The Residents,
The Blackbyrds,
Mo-Dettes,
Don Cherry,
T. Rex,
OOIOO,
Chris & Cosey,
Echospace,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.