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 Singapore and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Echo & the Bunnymen 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Los Fastidios,
The Fortunes,
Harmonia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joey Negro,
The Doors,
Lungfish,
Supertramp,
Trumans Water,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Kinks,
The Leaves,
Lyres,
Bronski Beat,
Pylon,
Donny Hathaway,
Marvin Gaye,
The Skatalites,
Andrew Hill,
Terry Callier,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultimate Spinach,
Niagra,
The Durutti Column,
Moss Icon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tom Boy,
cv313,
The Motions,
The Five Americans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David McCallum,
Basic Channel,
Barry Ungar,
Marmalade,
The Divine Comedy,
Swell Maps,
Procol Harum,
Essential Logic,
Tommy Roe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Crime,
Robert Hood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Almond,
Wolf Eyes,
Gang of Four,
Tubeway Army,
Von Mondo,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Human League,
Eddi Front,
Barrington Levy,
Model 500,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.