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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Das Ding to the disco 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Mad Mike,
Tropical Tobacco,
Inner City,
John Coltrane,
David Axelrod,
KRS-One,
The Remains,
Babytalk,
Scion,
Country Teasers,
Infiniti,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The New Christs,
Silicon Teens,
Simply Red,
The Gun Club,
Anthony Braxton,
The Smoke,
The Techniques,
The Mummies,
Anakelly,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rapeman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Associates,
Altered Images,
DJ Style,
Harpers Bizarre,
Surgeon,
Funky Four + One,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Barry Ungar,
Average White Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Real Kids,
Neil Young,
The Barracudas,
Los Fastidios,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Youth Brigade,
Gabor Szabo,
Monolake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
The American Breed,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Essential Logic,
Arthur Verocai,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Faraquet,
Warren Ellis,
Das Ding,
Masters at Work,
Dead Boys,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.