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 Belarus and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Count Five to the electroclash 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Japan,
The Cowsills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crash Course in Science,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gong,
Donny Hathaway,
Tim Buckley,
Visage,
The Music Machine,
Isaac Hayes,
The Names,
The Remains,
Andrew Hill,
Patti Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
The Monks,
Kurtis Blow,
DNA,
The Sonics,
Cameo,
Yazoo,
Bronski Beat,
Eden Ahbez,
Simply Red,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sisters of Mercy,
ABBA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Buzzcocks,
The Blues Magoos,
Blancmange,
Ultravox,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Martian,
T. Rex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Human League,
Mad Mike,
OOIOO,
Banda Bassotti,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Starr,
Al Stewart,
kango's stein massive,
Nirvana,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eve St. Jones,
Skaos,
Minor Threat,
10cc,
John Holt,
Hashim,
Sam Rivers,
Monks,
Man Parrish,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.