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 Austria and from London.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Byron Stingily,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Modern Lovers,
Connie Case,
Grey Daturas,
Kaleidoscope,
Procol Harum,
Deakin,
Lower 48,
China Crisis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
E-Dancer,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Electric Prunes,
The Selecter,
The Wake,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Groovy Waters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
T. Rex,
Funky Four + One,
Skarface,
Magazine,
Joy Division,
The Neon Judgement,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Youth Brigade,
The Real Kids,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Quando Quango,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Wyatt,
World's Most,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mandrill,
New Age Steppers,
Jawbox,
The Stooges,
Hot Snakes,
Michelle Simonal,
Bob Dylan,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy Collins,
Minutemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Drexciya,
The Doobie Brothers,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sound Behaviour,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
MC5,
Lyres,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bill Wells,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.