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 Uruguay and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Unrelated Segments to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Moleskins,
Pierre Henry,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
The Slits,
L. Decosne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Slits,
Soul II Soul,
Hashim,
World's Most,
Fear,
Oblivians,
Echospace,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Gang Green,
Lyres,
Con Funk Shun,
Kas Product,
Ronan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Clear Light,
Lower 48,
Jacques Brel,
Eurythmics,
Black Sheep,
Newcleus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Alison Limerick,
Wally Richardson,
Peter & Gordon,
Sun City Girls,
Qualms,
Kerri Chandler,
Andrew Hill,
Henry Cow,
The Mojo Men,
Avey Tare,
Boredoms,
Robert Hood,
Supertramp,
Chrome,
R.M.O.,
The Grass Roots,
Harry Pussy,
Barbara Tucker,
a-ha,
48th St. Collective,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
David Bowie,
Fat Boys,
Derrick May,
Silicon Teens,
kango's stein massive,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.