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 Lesotho and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 The Electric Prunes to the rap 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
The Cowsills,
Ludus,
The Fuzztones,
Todd Rundgren,
Minnie Riperton,
Amazonics,
The Dead C,
Don Cherry,
The Barracudas,
Royal Trux,
Duran Duran,
Iggy Pop,
Eve St. Jones,
Joey Negro,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pantytec,
Rosa Yemen,
Alice Coltrane,
Quantec,
Lalann,
The Modern Lovers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ohio Players,
Howard Jones,
The Monks,
Bronski Beat,
Spandau Ballet,
Brothers Johnson,
ABBA,
Soft Machine,
Faraquet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boredoms,
Inner City,
Tres Demented,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
The Velvet Underground,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sandy B,
Urselle,
Kaleidoscope,
The Raincoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
Josef K,
The Stooges,
Massinfluence,
Yusef Lateef,
Byron Stingily,
The Fugs,
Mars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Tremeloes,
New Age Steppers,
World's Most,
Harry Pussy,
Deakin,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.