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 Suriname and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Slave to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Camouflage,
Tommy Roe,
Freddie Wadling,
Negative Approach,
Mr. Review,
The Red Krayola,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Martian,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doors,
Radio Birdman,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Moody Blues,
Fear,
Q65,
Lightning Bolt,
Soul II Soul,
Colin Newman,
Brothers Johnson,
June Days,
Average White Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bluetip,
Franke,
Eurythmics,
The Mummies,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ponytail,
Roy Ayers,
The J.B.'s,
The Searchers,
Monolake,
Lou Christie,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Young Rascals,
The Cowsills,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Juan Atkins,
the Soft Cell,
Amon Düül II,
Delta 5,
Anakelly,
Roger Hodgson,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.