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 Uganda and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 T. Rex to the crunk 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
R.M.O.,
B.T. Express,
Quantec,
Mission of Burma,
Interpol,
OOIOO,
Nico,
Ludus,
Make Up,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Franke,
The Birthday Party,
X-101,
Dave Gahan,
DJ Style,
Eric Copeland,
Outsiders,
Chris Corsano,
Eurythmics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Monks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Be Bop Deluxe,
AZ,
Mark Hollis,
Black Moon,
Althea and Donna,
X-Ray Spex,
Aloha Tigers,
The Knickerbockers,
Blancmange,
Harmonia,
One Last Wish,
The Moleskins,
The Cowsills,
Porter Ricks,
Yellowson,
Marine Girls,
Television,
James White and The Blacks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Liliput,
The Kinks,
Pantaleimon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Erykah Badu,
Zero Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Essential Logic,
Quando Quango,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Almond,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fat Boys,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel,
Amon Düül II,
Supertramp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tim Buckley,
The Last Poets,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.