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 Palau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
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 theremin 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Aloha Tigers,
Interpol,
Sun Ra,
Model 500,
Throbbing Gristle,
Q and Not U,
Little Man,
Ten City,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Circle Jerks,
Juan Atkins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stetsasonic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Susan Cadogan,
Cybotron,
Silicon Teens,
Donny Hathaway,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lou Reed,
Gastr Del Sol,
Peter & Gordon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tommy Roe,
The Tremeloes,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül II,
The Human League,
Animal Collective,
Sonic Youth,
Henry Cow,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
Agent Orange,
The Last Poets,
Main Source,
Crooked Eye,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood,
The Sound,
Dawn Penn,
Andrew Hill,
Talk Talk,
Sparks,
The Seeds,
Radiohead,
Mars,
Pylon,
The Velvet Underground,
Morten Harket,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bronski Beat,
Bobby Byrd,
The J.B.'s,
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.