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 United Kingdom and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nick Fraelich 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Womack,
David Bowie,
Leonard Cohen,
kango's stein massive,
Public Enemy,
Flipper,
Das Ding,
Barbara Tucker,
The Electric Prunes,
Banda Bassotti,
Theoretical Girls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sun City Girls,
Marmalade,
Kenny Larkin,
Lou Reed,
Avey Tare,
Essential Logic,
The Litter,
Henry Cow,
Alice Coltrane,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Wake,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Index,
Mark Hollis,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monolake,
Yaz,
Tubeway Army,
Radiohead,
L. Decosne,
Joe Smooth,
Television,
Kayak,
Roger Hodgson,
Model 500,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scientists,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Skriet,
Nas,
Basic Channel,
The Mojo Men,
David McCallum,
Agent Orange,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Easy Going,
Clear Light,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crooked Eye,
Howard Jones,
Lalo Schifrin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pretty Things,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.