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 Afghanistan and from London.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Clear Light,
Groovy Waters,
Minny Pops,
T.S.O.L.,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Excepter,
Ronnie Foster,
Severed Heads,
Gregory Isaacs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Seeds,
Accadde A,
Charles Mingus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Icehouse,
Oneida,
Morten Harket,
The Monochrome Set,
Skaos,
The Buckinghams,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Fat Boys,
Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Fugazi,
Bad Manners,
Easy Going,
Matthew Bourne,
Minutemen,
The Fall,
R.M.O.,
Ossler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lindisfarne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jimmy McGriff,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Blossom Toes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Model 500,
Desert Stars,
The American Breed,
Joey Negro,
Man Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Camouflage,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Heaven 17,
the Human League,
Crash Course in Science,
Barbara Tucker,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.