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 Sudan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Todd Rundgren to the electroclash 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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Monolake,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scientists,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Radiohead,
Al Stewart,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Desert Stars,
Reagan Youth,
Rapeman,
The Real Kids,
Simply Red,
The Seeds,
OOIOO,
T. Rex,
Sight & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Ronan,
DJ Sneak,
Television,
Talk Talk,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Loose Ends,
Dennis Brown,
Porter Ricks,
The Doors,
Quando Quango,
48th St. Collective,
The Slits,
JFA,
New Order,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Franke,
Marine Girls,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
the Swans,
Spandau Ballet,
Yazoo,
Harmonia,
Soft Machine,
The Last Poets,
Blake Baxter,
Infiniti,
Fatback Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Roxy Music,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
Godley & Creme,
The Raincoats,
Model 500,
The Divine Comedy,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.