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 Kuwait and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Ossler,
Television,
Joensuu 1685,
Marine Girls,
Agitation Free,
Suicide,
The Stooges,
Kool Moe Dee,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Move,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Terrestrial Tones,
ABBA,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wings,
Shoche,
Throbbing Gristle,
Swell Maps,
The Misunderstood,
Jacques Brel,
Glambeats Corp.,
Technova,
Ludus,
The Birthday Party,
The Gories,
World's Most,
Duran Duran,
Stetsasonic,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cameo,
Avey Tare,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Index,
Ultravox,
Los Fastidios,
Babytalk,
John Foxx,
Stiv Bators,
Jawbox,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Interpol,
Rekid,
Reagan Youth,
Soft Cell,
Nico,
Dawn Penn,
F. McDonald,
a-ha,
Laurel Aitken,
Boredoms,
Arab on Radar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Max Romeo,
David Axelrod,
Judy Mowatt,
Public Image Ltd.,
Echospace,
Fad Gadget,
Malaria!,
The Young Rascals,
Depeche Mode,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.