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 United Kingdom and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Halsall to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Lou Reed,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-Ray Spex,
Morten Harket,
Sällskapet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Donald Byrd,
David Bowie,
The Electric Prunes,
Section 25,
The Count Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Henry Cow,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
the Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
Can,
The Searchers,
Shoche,
Throbbing Gristle,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxette,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Seeds,
Glenn Branca,
Swans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Birthday Party,
The Residents,
Niagra,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Leaves,
The Gories,
B.T. Express,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Spoonie Gee,
Eddi Front,
Surgeon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crispian St. Peters,
Altered Images,
Arcadia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Parry Music,
Jeff Mills,
Mission of Burma,
Urselle,
Banda Bassotti,
Bill Near,
Dave Gahan,
Slick Rick,
H. Thieme,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Remains,
Mr. Review,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.