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 Russia and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Erykah Badu to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Scientists,
Roxette,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Starr,
Jimmy McGriff,
Agitation Free,
Simply Red,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Cale,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kas Product,
Marine Girls,
The Happenings,
Main Source,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Babytalk,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
T.S.O.L.,
Maurizio,
Das Ding,
Intrusion,
The Kinks,
Wire,
Aural Exciters,
Letta Mbulu,
Talk Talk,
Livin' Joy,
The Zeros,
David Axelrod,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joy Division,
K-Klass,
Brothers Johnson,
Cheater Slicks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
X-Ray Spex,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sparks,
Altered Images,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mantronix,
The Cowsills,
Man Parrish,
Scion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Martian,
Susan Cadogan,
Sight & Sound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
New Order,
Sex Pistols,
Groovy Waters,
Harmonia,
Interpol,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.