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 Fiji and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Letta Mbulu to the disco 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Von Mondo,
The Dead C,
Youth Brigade,
Country Teasers,
Essential Logic,
Q65,
The Divine Comedy,
Interpol,
Bobby Sherman,
Technova,
The Mojo Men,
The Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rites of Spring,
Mission of Burma,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Con Funk Shun,
Jandek,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tears for Fears,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
Amon Düül II,
Bizarre Inc.,
These Immortal Souls,
Erasure,
Shuggie Otis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nick Fraelich,
Lee Hazlewood,
This Heat,
Porter Ricks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
Lakeside,
Hardrive,
A Certain Ratio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rosa Yemen,
Deakin,
Agitation Free,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eli Mardock,
Agent Orange,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Derrick May,
K-Klass,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erykah Badu,
The Sonics,
The Tremeloes,
Gong,
Connie Case,
The Associates,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.