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 Ireland and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Howard Jones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
The Saints,
Wally Richardson,
the Germs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
EPMD,
Niagra,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kurtis Blow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Judy Mowatt,
Can,
The Fire Engines,
Maurizio,
The Fugs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glenn Branca,
Jacques Brel,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wasted Youth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Happenings,
John Foxx,
Hardrive,
The Vogues,
The Knickerbockers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bronski Beat,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Residents,
The Barracudas,
Warsaw,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minny Pops,
Rod Modell,
D'Angelo,
The Leaves,
The Tremeloes,
Spandau Ballet,
the Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Television Personalities,
Public Image Ltd.,
Aaron Thompson,
Sex Pistols,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Section 25,
the Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants,
Organ,
Eve St. Jones,
Freddie Wadling,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pantaleimon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reuben Wilson,
Magazine,
Juan Atkins,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.