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 Qatar and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gil Scott Heron to the electroclash 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Victims,
Public Image Ltd.,
Steve Hackett,
Johnny Clarke,
Pere Ubu,
Tears for Fears,
The Moody Blues,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Bananas,
Slick Rick,
The Knickerbockers,
The Selecter,
Wally Richardson,
Supertramp,
The Standells,
10cc,
The Gladiators,
Gabor Szabo,
cv313,
Angry Samoans,
E-Dancer,
Index,
The Blues Magoos,
Gong,
Interpol,
Amazonics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Graham Central Station,
The Litter,
Bizarre Inc.,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
Bootsy Collins,
Morten Harket,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Techniques,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rapeman,
Unwound,
Swell Maps,
Pulsallama,
Minnie Riperton,
Joyce Sims,
Sound Behaviour,
Roger Hodgson,
The Raincoats,
Magma,
These Immortal Souls,
John Cale,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Guru Guru,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sparks,
DJ Style,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
David Bowie,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.