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 Slovenia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Essential Logic to the punk 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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
X-Ray Spex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Cale,
KRS-One,
Suburban Knight,
Ultra Naté,
Goldenarms,
The Cowsills,
Flipper,
Roxette,
Roxy Music,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Smiths,
Barrington Levy,
Stiv Bators,
Cal Tjader,
Swell Maps,
Fat Boys,
Motorama,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Near,
Steve Hackett,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Section 25,
Erasure,
The Golliwogs,
Rakim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Saccharine Trust,
Ornette Coleman,
Depeche Mode,
The Fire Engines,
The Associates,
The Velvet Underground,
Severed Heads,
Glenn Branca,
Monolake,
Scan 7,
Porter Ricks,
Scott Walker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moss Icon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Simply Red,
Lakeside,
Bauhaus,
EPMD,
The Sound,
Soft Cell,
Mark Hollis,
Matthew Halsall,
The Selecter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Index,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Graham Central Station,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Grass Roots,
Fugazi,
Clear Light,
Jeru the Damaja,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.