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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Seeds to the crunk 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Second Layer,
Wolf Eyes,
John Foxx,
The Skatalites,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pere Ubu,
Bauhaus,
Morten Harket,
Traffic Nightmare,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
Todd Rundgren,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brothers Johnson,
The Monks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Five Americans,
Monks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lower 48,
Bronski Beat,
Panda Bear,
Darondo,
Robert Görl,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ludus,
Rites of Spring,
Swell Maps,
Stetsasonic,
The Grass Roots,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Slits,
The Birthday Party,
Moby Grape,
Gichy Dan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Anakelly,
Silicon Teens,
Von Mondo,
The Monochrome Set,
Saccharine Trust,
Desert Stars,
Girls At Our Best!,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
Ornette Coleman,
Hashim,
Whodini,
Suburban Knight,
The Kinks,
AZ,
Wings,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
U.S. Maple,
The Star Department,
The Standells,
Derrick May,
Au Pairs,
Organ,
The Vogues,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.