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 Venezuela and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Eve St. Jones to the grunge 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ten City,
John Cale,
Pulsallama,
Nik Kershaw,
The Blackbyrds,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marmalade,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Techniques,
Soft Cell,
Chrome,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Pus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Schoolly D,
Heaven 17,
Albert Ayler,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lucky Dragons,
Pierre Henry,
The Young Rascals,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tomorrow,
One Last Wish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Television Personalities,
The Fortunes,
Interpol,
Al Stewart,
Mission of Burma,
CMW,
the Association,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lakeside,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zero Boys,
The Names,
Grauzone,
Surgeon,
Popol Vuh,
Tommy Roe,
Nas,
Half Japanese,
ABC,
the Normal,
Eli Mardock,
Idris Muhammad,
Arab on Radar,
Skarface,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Althea and Donna,
Pagans,
Subhumans,
Marc Almond,
The Electric Prunes,
Monks,
Ultravox,
The Fugs,
Pantaleimon,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.