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 Netherlands and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Rites of Spring to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Fatback Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Move,
Interpol,
Con Funk Shun,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Reed,
The Blues Magoos,
Matthew Halsall,
Thee Headcoats,
Barry Ungar,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
AZ,
DNA,
Swell Maps,
The Smiths,
Ponytail,
Little Man,
Todd Terry,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Section 25,
Ituana,
Sarah Menescal,
the Human League,
Roger Hodgson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Last Poets,
Animal Collective,
Roxette,
The Dead C,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scrapy,
Jawbox,
Swans,
Stetsasonic,
The Human League,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
These Immortal Souls,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gladiators,
Quantec,
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fad Gadget,
Suburban Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nirvana,
Flash Fearless,
World's Most,
Dave Gahan,
China Crisis,
The Techniques,
the Slits,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ten City,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.