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 Mongolia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lungfish to the grunge 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Seeds,
Cluster,
Jeff Lynne,
Liliput,
Echospace,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Q and Not U,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Tremeloes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Mummies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Smiths,
Skriet,
Slave,
Matthew Bourne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Duran Duran,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Finger,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lakeside,
Gerry Rafferty,
Minnie Riperton,
Moby Grape,
The Standells,
Gabor Szabo,
Lower 48,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
New Age Steppers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Accadde A,
Prince Buster,
Fugazi,
Monolake,
10cc,
Guru Guru,
Monks,
Graham Central Station,
Tears for Fears,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Babytalk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marvin Gaye,
Circle Jerks,
X-102,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jeru the Damaja,
Procol Harum,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cal Tjader,
The Music Machine,
Morten Harket,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
China Crisis,
Dual Sessions,
Robert Wyatt,
The Neon Judgement,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scott Walker,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.