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 Estonia and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Kerrie Biddell to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
The Motions,
Pole,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Foxx,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gong,
Roger Hodgson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Quantec,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Swans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Lydon,
Model 500,
Man Parrish,
Peter and Kerry,
Ituana,
Siglo XX,
Arab on Radar,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Traffic Nightmare,
Grauzone,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Seeds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nico,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gerry Rafferty,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jacob Miller,
OOIOO,
James White and The Blacks,
UT,
Bauhaus,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Victims,
Zapp,
Pantytec,
Gang of Four,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joensuu 1685,
F. McDonald,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Aaron Thompson,
Duran Duran,
Nick Fraelich,
The Cramps,
LL Cool J,
The Golliwogs,
the Swans,
Little Man,
Wings,
Country Teasers,
The Techniques,
Brand Nubian,
Lower 48,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.