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 Lebanon and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tears for Fears to the disco 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marshall Jefferson,
Buzzcocks,
The Zeros,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Erasure,
Ponytail,
The Wake,
Eurythmics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Circle Jerks,
Bad Manners,
The Smoke,
Agent Orange,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
The Mojo Men,
Wings,
Black Pus,
The Litter,
The Electric Prunes,
Tommy Roe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Warsaw,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kas Product,
Stiv Bators,
48th St. Collective,
June Days,
Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
Goldenarms,
Whodini,
Japan,
Arcadia,
Sly & The Family Stone,
R.M.O.,
Deadbeat,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Prunes,
Isaac Hayes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kenny Larkin,
Aloha Tigers,
Nas,
Au Pairs,
The Misunderstood,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Masters at Work,
Prince Buster,
Sugar Minott,
Cybotron,
B.T. Express,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.