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 Macedonia and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Connie Case to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Searchers,
Ludus,
Black Sheep,
Buzzcocks,
Donny Hathaway,
The Durutti Column,
June Days,
The Motions,
Organ,
Clear Light,
Spandau Ballet,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hashim,
Sparks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Association,
Eric Dolphy,
Terry Callier,
The Leaves,
Neil Young,
Lucky Dragons,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Grey Daturas,
Fad Gadget,
Derrick Morgan,
the Germs,
Fear,
Archie Shepp,
Scratch Acid,
a-ha,
OOIOO,
Bobby Sherman,
Index,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Reuben Wilson,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
Howard Jones,
Japan,
Au Pairs,
Shoche,
kango's stein massive,
Joey Negro,
Eurythmics,
Blossom Toes,
Gichy Dan,
the Bar-Kays,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eddi Front,
The Names,
Flash Fearless,
Eden Ahbez,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wire,
Barrington Levy,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.