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 Luxembourg and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barry Ungar to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
Fluxion,
Spoonie Gee,
the Soft Cell,
Chrome,
The Kinks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Brick,
Masters at Work,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Dolphy,
The Neon Judgement,
Bronski Beat,
Tomorrow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rufus Thomas,
Wolf Eyes,
Morten Harket,
the Swans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mr. Review,
Skarface,
June of 44,
The Index,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
Visage,
Lindisfarne,
Duran Duran,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jawbox,
Pagans,
Talk Talk,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Buzzcocks,
Eden Ahbez,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
MC5,
Drexciya,
Spandau Ballet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Unrelated Segments,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cramps,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cure,
Skaos,
New York Dolls,
Section 25,
Flipper,
The Vogues,
Joe Smooth,
Eli Mardock,
Aloha Tigers,
Motorama,
Grey Daturas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sonics,
Electric Prunes,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.