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 Malaysia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron 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 Harmonia to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Youth Brigade,
New Age Steppers,
The Remains,
The Leaves,
Skarface,
Con Funk Shun,
the Bar-Kays,
Patti Smith,
John Coltrane,
Scion,
Kaleidoscope,
Camouflage,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
Joyce Sims,
Colin Newman,
Warsaw,
Fat Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Althea and Donna,
Deepchord,
Nas,
The Cure,
Nick Fraelich,
Agitation Free,
Stiv Bators,
Man Eating Sloth,
Accadde A,
The Fortunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Moon,
The Divine Comedy,
The Walker Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
Roxy Music,
F. McDonald,
Bob Dylan,
X-101,
Faraquet,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Five Americans,
The Invisible,
Brick,
R.M.O.,
Interpol,
The Fall,
Reuben Wilson,
Bronski Beat,
Royal Trux,
Visage,
Loose Ends,
Angry Samoans,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Young Rascals,
Little Man,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.