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 Uruguay and from Woodstock.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Derrick May to the dance 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Freddie Wadling,
Barrington Levy,
The Searchers,
Interpol,
Negative Approach,
Crime,
Nils Olav,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Anthony Braxton,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ituana,
Q and Not U,
Radio Birdman,
Dennis Brown,
Royal Trux,
The Litter,
The Knickerbockers,
The Toasters,
Audionom,
Dave Gahan,
Cluster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lucky Dragons,
The Standells,
Hardrive,
Prince Buster,
The Gladiators,
The J.B.'s,
Jerry's Kids,
The Pop Group,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bauhaus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Vainqueur,
Ossler,
Josef K,
The Monks,
Surgeon,
The Buckinghams,
Rotary Connection,
Brass Construction,
The Martian,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Sherman,
David McCallum,
Harmonia,
Faust,
JFA,
Robert Wyatt,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.