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 Taiwan and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Green to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scott Walker,
Byron Stingily,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moody Blues,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Görl,
Charles Mingus,
Goldenarms,
Man Eating Sloth,
D'Angelo,
Ponytail,
Qualms,
Funky Four + One,
The Raincoats,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kas Product,
The Litter,
Lungfish,
The Mummies,
Oblivians,
Sun City Girls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hot Snakes,
Talk Talk,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Blancmange,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Unwound,
Q and Not U,
Agitation Free,
Ultravox,
Deakin,
Black Moon,
Warsaw,
Blossom Toes,
Terry Callier,
Livin' Joy,
ABC,
Jandek,
Peter & Gordon,
Derrick Morgan,
Mr. Review,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
Suburban Knight,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Grass Roots,
Danielle Patucci,
The Star Department,
Icehouse,
The Modern Lovers,
Ken Boothe,
Radiopuhelimet,
Buzzcocks,
Sister Nancy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mandrill,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.