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 Australia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Liliput to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Goldenarms,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amon Düül II,
Bang On A Can,
Liliput,
Black Flag,
Harry Pussy,
Pylon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Move,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun City Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ronan,
Oblivians,
Yellowson,
Con Funk Shun,
The Wake,
Arthur Verocai,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boredoms,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cluster,
The Raincoats,
Swell Maps,
Quando Quango,
Ken Boothe,
Al Stewart,
Camberwell Now,
The Slackers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Icehouse,
Sam Rivers,
Black Moon,
Tim Buckley,
John Cale,
John Foxx,
Brothers Johnson,
Kenny Larkin,
Joe Finger,
Supertramp,
Scratch Acid,
Mars,
The J.B.'s,
The Index,
Organ,
The Gap Band,
The New Christs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Clear Light,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Dead C,
Angry Samoans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.