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 Monaco and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Popol Vuh to the grime 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Ultravox,
Althea and Donna,
Eurythmics,
Slick Rick,
Piero Umiliani,
Monolake,
The Electric Prunes,
Ronnie Foster,
Stetsasonic,
Barclay James Harvest,
Andrew Hill,
The Cowsills,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
Tim Buckley,
Mark Hollis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Organ,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lou Reed,
Bill Wells,
Amon Düül II,
Vladislav Delay,
Bad Manners,
The Smoke,
Barry Ungar,
The Misunderstood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suicide,
Visage,
Lalann,
Television,
Sugar Minott,
Anthony Braxton,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soft Machine,
Albert Ayler,
Mission of Burma,
Sun Ra,
Silicon Teens,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bush Tetras,
The Red Krayola,
Audionom,
The Dave Clark Five,
Vainqueur,
China Crisis,
The Zeros,
James White and The Blacks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Velvet Underground,
Pharoah Sanders,
Howard Jones,
John Lydon,
The Fire Engines,
Magazine,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.