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 Spain and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Chic 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 Symarip to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Agitation Free,
Byron Stingily,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
Clear Light,
Terry Callier,
Slave,
Barrington Levy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Suicide,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
Parry Music,
Motorama,
The Leaves,
The Angels of Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
Royal Trux,
Ice-T,
Neil Young,
Iggy Pop,
Kerri Chandler,
The Velvet Underground,
Skarface,
Yellowson,
The Saints,
Little Man,
The American Breed,
Nico,
The Blues Magoos,
World's Most,
Arcadia,
The Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
Lou Reed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Swans,
Moebius,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cybotron,
U.S. Maple,
The Beau Brummels,
Robert Görl,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
New Age Steppers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Cure,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Dolphy,
Theoretical Girls,
Fugazi,
Rosa Yemen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Desert Stars,
The Fall,
Stiv Bators,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marine Girls,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.