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 Liberia and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Echospace to the dance 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echo & the Bunnymen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
The Tremeloes,
Schoolly D,
Nirvana,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Grey Daturas,
Y Pants,
Girls At Our Best!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Moody Blues,
Pere Ubu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Connie Case,
The Cure,
Sister Nancy,
Vladislav Delay,
Royal Trux,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bluetip,
John Holt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pylon,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
Urselle,
Harry Pussy,
Deakin,
Bobby Sherman,
Hot Snakes,
Mo-Dettes,
Don Cherry,
Bad Manners,
Arthur Verocai,
Siglo XX,
Boz Scaggs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sugar Minott,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fuzztones,
The Names,
Peter and Kerry,
the Human League,
New Age Steppers,
Alton Ellis,
In Retrospect,
Steve Hackett,
Archie Shepp,
Joe Smooth,
Radiohead,
DJ Sneak,
PIL,
The Monochrome Set,
Fat Boys,
Andrew Hill,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faust,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.