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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Kerrie Biddell to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu 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?
Al Stewart,
Mr. Review,
Steve Hackett,
Chris Corsano,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tubeway Army,
Kurtis Blow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terrestrial Tones,
Toni Rubio,
Main Source,
Morten Harket,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Dead C,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Offenders,
Spandau Ballet,
MDC,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Stiv Bators,
Jacques Brel,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
Newcleus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Shoche,
Sarah Menescal,
Frankie Knuckles,
Faraquet,
Quando Quango,
Nico,
Lucky Dragons,
Eve St. Jones,
Amon Düül,
Pantytec,
Moby Grape,
Symarip,
Scientists,
Unrelated Segments,
John Holt,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bob Dylan,
Barry Ungar,
The Dirtbombs,
Slick Rick,
Sister Nancy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Robert Hood,
Gang Starr,
Black Bananas,
Section 25,
Duran Duran,
The Fall,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.