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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro 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 Gang Green to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Tommy Roe,
Excepter,
Average White Band,
Moby Grape,
Inner City,
cv313,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Das Ding,
Tears for Fears,
Fugazi,
X-102,
The Gories,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sister Nancy,
Mars,
Roy Ayers,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sixth Finger,
Eli Mardock,
A Certain Ratio,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun Ra,
Pylon,
The Fugs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fall,
the Soft Cell,
Slave,
Eddi Front,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
LL Cool J,
Ultravox,
The Knickerbockers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arab on Radar,
Derrick May,
Steve Hackett,
Visage,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Invisible,
Subhumans,
Scientists,
UT,
Shoche,
In Retrospect,
The Misunderstood,
Echospace,
Suburban Knight,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
Television,
The Grass Roots,
Siglo XX,
Bluetip,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.