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 Somalia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Heaven 17 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
The Index,
Metal Thangz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Buckinghams,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gories,
Khruangbin,
Cymande,
Avey Tare,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Popol Vuh,
Cal Tjader,
Electric Prunes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Television Personalities,
Spandau Ballet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Count Five,
Fluxion,
Dead Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Maleditus Sound,
The Barracudas,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Wally Richardson,
Radio Birdman,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The J.B.'s,
Moebius,
Bobby Sherman,
Graham Central Station,
The Gun Club,
World's Most,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
PIL,
Gang Starr,
The Move,
Derrick Morgan,
the Normal,
Erasure,
These Immortal Souls,
Underground Resistance,
Barbara Tucker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Tremeloes,
Eric Dolphy,
Guru Guru,
Deakin,
Oneida,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
Arcadia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doors,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.