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 Andorra and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 June of 44 to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joy Division,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantaleimon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-Ray Spex,
The Associates,
Pulsallama,
Khruangbin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Cymande,
Gong,
Jacques Brel,
Boz Scaggs,
Tomorrow,
Eric Dolphy,
Godley & Creme,
Tubeway Army,
Colin Newman,
Symarip,
Rites of Spring,
the Bar-Kays,
Vainqueur,
Minor Threat,
Pierre Henry,
Warren Ellis,
Kevin Saunderson,
Skriet,
The Invisible,
The Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
Icehouse,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Foxx,
Grandmaster Flash,
David Bowie,
Television,
Hasil Adkins,
Judy Mowatt,
Donny Hathaway,
The Kinks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Count Five,
Unwound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Barbara Tucker,
Iggy Pop,
Black Flag,
The Busters,
June of 44,
Underground Resistance,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Index,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
Deadbeat,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.