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 Congo and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cowsills to the rock 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Pretty Things,
Pagans,
Nirvana,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Los Fastidios,
The Neon Judgement,
The Happenings,
X-101,
Roxette,
Ronan,
Barrington Levy,
Agitation Free,
Roxy Music,
Nick Fraelich,
AZ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Johnny Clarke,
Absolute Body Control,
Magazine,
The Modern Lovers,
Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Michelle Simonal,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Offenders,
Franke,
Country Teasers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mary Jane Girls,
Janne Schatter,
Don Cherry,
Interpol,
The Five Americans,
F. McDonald,
The Divine Comedy,
Supertramp,
Lee Hazlewood,
Heaven 17,
Talk Talk,
The Pop Group,
Man Eating Sloth,
MC5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kaleidoscope,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Human League,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Buzzcocks,
Crooked Eye,
Sam Rivers,
Bootsy Collins,
Icehouse,
The Associates,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monks,
The Moody Blues,
Iggy Pop,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Golliwogs,
La Düsseldorf,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.