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 South Sudan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator 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 Brick to the crunk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Crooked Eye,
Brass Construction,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Sneak,
Trumans Water,
Pulsallama,
Groovy Waters,
Eurythmics,
Roy Ayers,
Mars,
Young Marble Giants,
Index,
Kayak,
The Gladiators,
Nik Kershaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Magma,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soft Machine,
The Barracudas,
The Mummies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Byron Stingily,
Arcadia,
Deadbeat,
Eric Dolphy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lindisfarne,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fugs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Negative Approach,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thompson Twins,
Roxy Music,
DJ Style,
Monks,
Oneida,
Gastr Del Sol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Wake,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Y Pants,
Procol Harum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yaz,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Niagra,
Bootsy Collins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gerry Rafferty,
Donald Byrd,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
Rosa Yemen,
Wolf Eyes,
Schoolly D,
Radiohead,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wings,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.