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 Brunei and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Make Up to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Hood,
Circle Jerks,
Infiniti,
Radiopuhelimet,
Hot Snakes,
Black Pus,
Sam Rivers,
Aaron Thompson,
Organ,
Rekid,
Delon & Dalcan,
Japan,
the Normal,
Goldenarms,
The Blues Magoos,
The United States of America,
Moby Grape,
Ultravox,
Stetsasonic,
The Happenings,
a-ha,
Soft Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Monochrome Set,
Al Stewart,
X-Ray Spex,
David McCallum,
Rod Modell,
John Coltrane,
Gang of Four,
Hardrive,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
LL Cool J,
Big Daddy Kane,
Leonard Cohen,
Mr. Review,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Derrick Morgan,
Shuggie Otis,
Funky Four + One,
The Five Americans,
The Remains,
Mo-Dettes,
The Mummies,
Das Ding,
Public Enemy,
Blancmange,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soulsonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Moebius,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.