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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 T.S.O.L. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delon & Dalcan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Sherman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fall,
The Pop Group,
The Beau Brummels,
Marvin Gaye,
James White and The Blacks,
Albert Ayler,
Rakim,
Symarip,
The Wake,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jacques Brel,
Young Marble Giants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeff Lynne,
The Barracudas,
The Stooges,
Agitation Free,
Amazonics,
Ohio Players,
Marmalade,
Nirvana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cheater Slicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Five Americans,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Slits,
UT,
Babytalk,
Procol Harum,
Stetsasonic,
Soul Sonic Force,
Faraquet,
10cc,
Brick,
The Associates,
Fear,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Livin' Joy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barrington Levy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Main Source,
Camberwell Now,
Max Romeo,
Black Sheep,
The Slackers,
Spandau Ballet,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.