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 Ukraine and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the rock 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Sister Nancy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Depeche Mode,
MDC,
The Slits,
The Stooges,
Television Personalities,
Animal Collective,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sandy B,
The Birthday Party,
Mandrill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bronski Beat,
Nik Kershaw,
K-Klass,
The Human League,
Kurtis Blow,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Black Dice,
The Tremeloes,
Moss Icon,
Au Pairs,
The Leaves,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wings,
Eve St. Jones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pantaleimon,
This Heat,
Gastr Del Sol,
Donny Hathaway,
Stetsasonic,
Bob Dylan,
Howard Jones,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rekid,
The Modern Lovers,
Sun Ra,
Pussy Galore,
The Selecter,
Max Romeo,
The Golliwogs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Neil Young,
Camouflage,
Circle Jerks,
Ultravox,
Idris Muhammad,
Bill Near,
Eric Dolphy,
Simply Red,
Derrick Morgan,
Boz Scaggs,
Al Stewart,
Interpol,
Bobby Womack,
Scratch Acid,
FM Einheit,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pylon,
Procol Harum,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.