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 Suriname and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes 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 Barbara Tucker to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Alphaville,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yazoo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
China Crisis,
Niagra,
Oneida,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cramps,
The Fugs,
X-101,
T.S.O.L.,
Blancmange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Tremeloes,
48th St. Collective,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Prunes,
Laurel Aitken,
These Immortal Souls,
Oblivians,
Dead Boys,
Nas,
Althea and Donna,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerri Chandler,
Suicide,
Khruangbin,
Erasure,
Thompson Twins,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Metal Thangz,
The Busters,
Lungfish,
The Birthday Party,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Half Japanese,
The Selecter,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispian St. Peters,
Babytalk,
Cluster,
Aswad,
The Grass Roots,
Rosa Yemen,
Gichy Dan,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fuzztones,
a-ha,
Pantaleimon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wasted Youth,
John Foxx,
Gang of Four,
Bronski Beat,
Unrelated Segments,
Sound Behaviour,
Wings,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.