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 Malawi and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Thee Headcoats to the grime 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Newcleus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Angels of Light,
T. Rex,
Pierre Henry,
La Düsseldorf,
Make Up,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Funky Four + One,
Warren Ellis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ken Boothe,
Schoolly D,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Letta Mbulu,
DJ Sneak,
Jeff Lynne,
The Mojo Men,
The Moody Blues,
One Last Wish,
Depeche Mode,
Moss Icon,
Pagans,
The Seeds,
Marvin Gaye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wolf Eyes,
The Names,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Fortunes,
Tres Demented,
Wasted Youth,
Black Moon,
Livin' Joy,
Morten Harket,
Babytalk,
Zapp,
Sun City Girls,
the Swans,
Minny Pops,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
JFA,
Idris Muhammad,
Donny Hathaway,
Urselle,
June Days,
The Shadows of Knight,
Subhumans,
The Fuzztones,
The Trojans,
Suicide,
This Heat,
Darondo,
H. Thieme,
The Motions,
The Moleskins,
Mantronix,
Bronski Beat,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.