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 Paraguay and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 R.M.O. to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Peter & Gordon,
Kayak,
David McCallum,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Amon Düül II,
Davy DMX,
The Five Americans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scott Walker,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fortunes,
The Fall,
Desert Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
The Smiths,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Dead C,
Amazonics,
A Certain Ratio,
David Bowie,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barbara Tucker,
Flipper,
Aaron Thompson,
Robert Görl,
Black Bananas,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minutemen,
Ossler,
This Heat,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Gap Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Janne Schatter,
Second Layer,
Althea and Donna,
Half Japanese,
The Move,
Quadrant,
Gang Green,
Mo-Dettes,
Lou Reed,
Underground Resistance,
Country Teasers,
Lucky Dragons,
Blake Baxter,
Technova,
Marmalade,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eve St. Jones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moss Icon,
Clear Light,
Easy Going,
Ken Boothe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scratch Acid,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scientists,
Sam Rivers,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.