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 Yemen and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Pussy Galore,
Panda Bear,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sarah Menescal,
a-ha,
Roxy Music,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tears for Fears,
48th St. Collective,
Kayak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Vogues,
Erykah Badu,
Derrick May,
Warren Ellis,
The Velvet Underground,
Intrusion,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang of Four,
Harmonia,
Metal Thangz,
Delon & Dalcan,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blake Baxter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boogie Down Productions,
Country Teasers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
PIL,
The Black Dice,
the Soft Cell,
Connie Case,
Black Sheep,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tim Buckley,
The Pretty Things,
Howard Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Mark Hollis,
DJ Style,
Pantaleimon,
DNA,
The Selecter,
Depeche Mode,
The Kinks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Judy Mowatt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cowsills,
Soulsonic Force,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
Audionom,
Black Pus,
Yellowson,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.