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 Bolivia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tremeloes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rosa Yemen,
The Wake,
The Litter,
the Normal,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crooked Eye,
Index,
the Swans,
Sight & Sound,
Bauhaus,
Eddi Front,
Bizarre Inc.,
Intrusion,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Smooth,
Idris Muhammad,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Maurizio,
Ultravox,
Marc Almond,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultra Naté,
Sex Pistols,
The Vogues,
Japan,
L. Decosne,
Vladislav Delay,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Smiths,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Moody Blues,
R.M.O.,
Junior Murvin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Skatalites,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sonic Youth,
The Gun Club,
Soul II Soul,
The Invisible,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Derrick Morgan,
Scan 7,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeff Lynne,
Cluster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roy Ayers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Black Pus,
The Real Kids,
The Smoke,
Gang of Four,
Eli Mardock,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Starr,
The Selecter,
Mad Mike,
Malaria!,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.