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 Micronesia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Iggy Pop to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vainqueur,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Japan,
Judy Mowatt,
Cecil Taylor,
Rod Modell,
Chrome,
the Soft Cell,
Porter Ricks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultravox,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerrie Biddell,
Andrew Hill,
Tubeway Army,
Swell Maps,
The Smiths,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nik Kershaw,
Graham Central Station,
The Angels of Light,
Skarface,
EPMD,
Wolf Eyes,
Fluxion,
Barclay James Harvest,
Delta 5,
Maleditus Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MC5,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mr. Review,
Mars,
Morten Harket,
Barrington Levy,
the Swans,
Scientists,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kenny Larkin,
Pierre Henry,
Qualms,
Television Personalities,
Unwound,
The Techniques,
Joe Smooth,
Metal Thangz,
Crooked Eye,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Procol Harum,
Laurel Aitken,
The Tremeloes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eddi Front,
Black Moon,
Brick,
The Smoke,
The Modern Lovers,
The Move,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.