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 Laos 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Eric Copeland to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Roxette,
Depeche Mode,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Von Mondo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Unrelated Segments,
The Human League,
Fat Boys,
Johnny Clarke,
Grey Daturas,
Masters at Work,
Sister Nancy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Velvet Underground,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Steve Hackett,
Freddie Wadling,
Panda Bear,
Soul II Soul,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Selecter,
Popol Vuh,
The Gladiators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Accadde A,
Ultravox,
Grauzone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joensuu 1685,
Jerry's Kids,
Visage,
Rapeman,
Mantronix,
Barrington Levy,
Shoche,
Skaos,
the Slits,
Tom Boy,
The Busters,
Nas,
Iggy Pop,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
The Mummies,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aloha Tigers,
Moss Icon,
Loose Ends,
10cc,
Todd Rundgren,
Dual Sessions,
Tomorrow,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jacques Brel,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.