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 Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Kayak,
The Leaves,
Saccharine Trust,
The Young Rascals,
The Sonics,
Boredoms,
Arab on Radar,
Goldenarms,
Von Mondo,
Ossler,
Isaac Hayes,
Zapp,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Mojo Men,
Intrusion,
Ultra Naté,
Fatback Band,
Buzzcocks,
Mantronix,
Chris Corsano,
Rites of Spring,
Accadde A,
John Foxx,
Leonard Cohen,
Groovy Waters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Make Up,
Mission of Burma,
T. Rex,
Reuben Wilson,
Freddie Wadling,
Schoolly D,
The Real Kids,
Pole,
The Mummies,
Surgeon,
Agent Orange,
Motorama,
X-101,
Bizarre Inc.,
Little Man,
Idris Muhammad,
The Techniques,
Y Pants,
Terrestrial Tones,
New York Dolls,
Au Pairs,
Al Stewart,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
MDC,
Japan,
Arthur Verocai,
Dennis Brown,
Crooked Eye,
Sparks,
Audionom,
The Happenings,
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.