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 Croatia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Moebius to the disco 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
EPMD,
Eden Ahbez,
Make Up,
Silicon Teens,
Marine Girls,
Pylon,
Marmalade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sandy B,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeff Lynne,
Hoover,
X-102,
Ohio Players,
F. McDonald,
Mo-Dettes,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Wyatt,
Excepter,
The Last Poets,
Circle Jerks,
Steve Hackett,
Josef K,
The Move,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sarah Menescal,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mad Mike,
Robert Hood,
Man Parrish,
Smog,
Jacques Brel,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Amazonics,
Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
Rekid,
New Age Steppers,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
John Lydon,
Bauhaus,
Kurtis Blow,
The Evens,
Das Ding,
Dead Boys,
Stetsasonic,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalann,
The Count Five,
Rosa Yemen,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pretty Things,
Kenny Larkin,
Eric Dolphy,
Blake Baxter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gang Starr,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Peter and Kerry,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.