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 St Lucia and from Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 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 Barclay James Harvest to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
the Slits,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Seeds,
Roxy Music,
Robert Hood,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fluxion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mars,
Mad Mike,
The United States of America,
The Trojans,
Black Pus,
Pole,
Magazine,
Outsiders,
Severed Heads,
Joyce Sims,
Alphaville,
Underground Resistance,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David McCallum,
Quantec,
Sparks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Half Japanese,
Isaac Hayes,
Warsaw,
Public Enemy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eden Ahbez,
Rotary Connection,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Main Source,
La Düsseldorf,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cameo,
This Heat,
Blancmange,
The Real Kids,
Interpol,
The Raincoats,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Crime,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Reuben Wilson,
X-102,
Matthew Bourne,
The Star Department,
the Swans,
Amon Düül II,
Faraquet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scott Walker,
Animal Collective,
Angry Samoans,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
H. Thieme,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.