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 Libya and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer 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 Aloha Tigers to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
the Swans,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantytec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eli Mardock,
Darondo,
Aural Exciters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hashim,
Cluster,
Man Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Lynne,
Tears for Fears,
the Human League,
Livin' Joy,
Deadbeat,
Dave Gahan,
The American Breed,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Sonics,
Jandek,
Q and Not U,
Supertramp,
Vladislav Delay,
John Coltrane,
Yellowson,
Arthur Verocai,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Leonard Cohen,
Pagans,
Babytalk,
Television,
Godley & Creme,
Gang Gang Dance,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Groovy Waters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bang On A Can,
Saccharine Trust,
Unrelated Segments,
The Raincoats,
Electric Prunes,
Eden Ahbez,
Soft Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soft Cell,
B.T. Express,
Loose Ends,
Scratch Acid,
Lungfish,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.