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 Papua New Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the dance 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Livin' Joy,
Aaron Thompson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-101,
Fugazi,
Althea and Donna,
Ken Boothe,
Alton Ellis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terry Callier,
Trumans Water,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kurtis Blow,
Bill Wells,
Mo-Dettes,
The Moody Blues,
Eric Copeland,
Maurizio,
Malaria!,
MDC,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
The Standells,
The Sonics,
Man Parrish,
Ronan,
The Dead C,
Dennis Brown,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Bar-Kays,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Stooges,
Reuben Wilson,
Kerrie Biddell,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Blackbyrds,
The Fall,
Fatback Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Radio Birdman,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Starr,
The Durutti Column,
Main Source,
Fela Kuti,
Los Fastidios,
Morten Harket,
This Heat,
Robert Wyatt,
The Motions,
Monks,
Fad Gadget,
New York Dolls,
Kenny Larkin,
Groovy Waters,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.