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 Austria and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Marine Girls to the funk 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Yaz,
Vainqueur,
Dennis Brown,
Jawbox,
Gregory Isaacs,
Los Fastidios,
Thee Headcoats,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
CMW,
Gabor Szabo,
The Names,
Magazine,
The Durutti Column,
Moby Grape,
The Cure,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marine Girls,
Ossler,
Kerri Chandler,
Barry Ungar,
Lalann,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Starr,
The Cramps,
Maurizio,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Model 500,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
June of 44,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soft Cell,
Public Enemy,
Crooked Eye,
Wire,
Faraquet,
The Pop Group,
Roxette,
Suicide,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig,
a-ha,
Hoover,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Sheep,
Lou Christie,
Qualms,
Fear,
Mo-Dettes,
Joe Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cheater Slicks,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.