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 Guatemala and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Moss Icon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Arab on Radar,
China Crisis,
Index,
Aloha Tigers,
The Raincoats,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Steve Hackett,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Accadde A,
The Fuzztones,
Blake Baxter,
Infiniti,
Nils Olav,
Pylon,
Jerry's Kids,
Isaac Hayes,
David Axelrod,
Depeche Mode,
Fluxion,
John Foxx,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
Connie Case,
Harry Pussy,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
The Move,
The Remains,
Rufus Thomas,
X-102,
Jawbox,
Albert Ayler,
Al Stewart,
Parry Music,
D'Angelo,
Bobby Byrd,
CMW,
Black Sheep,
Derrick May,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Mandrill,
Erykah Badu,
Marine Girls,
F. McDonald,
Fear,
10cc,
Thompson Twins,
Spandau Ballet,
Supertramp,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cure,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dead C,
Todd Rundgren,
Pere Ubu,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.