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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Magazine to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Glenn Branca,
Los Fastidios,
The Beau Brummels,
Lyres,
Jandek,
Nik Kershaw,
The Detroit Cobras,
EPMD,
48th St. Collective,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Litter,
The Knickerbockers,
Tres Demented,
Pantaleimon,
Public Enemy,
New York Dolls,
Scan 7,
Chris & Cosey,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Blake Baxter,
Rod Modell,
The Moody Blues,
Surgeon,
Panda Bear,
Black Flag,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Wells,
Tears for Fears,
Donald Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skaos,
Eli Mardock,
Banda Bassotti,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
Hashim,
Rekid,
Section 25,
Nico,
UT,
Eddi Front,
Eve St. Jones,
the Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Aaron Thompson,
Au Pairs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bluetip,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang Green,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pharoah Sanders,
Average White Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Roxette,
Siglo XX,
The Pop Group,
Kurtis Blow,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.