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 Tonga and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 mellotron 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 Glambeats Corp. to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arthur Verocai,
Smog,
Alison Limerick,
Ultra Naté,
Nas,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Eli Mardock,
Model 500,
Avey Tare,
Laurel Aitken,
The Real Kids,
E-Dancer,
Johnny Clarke,
Piero Umiliani,
Television,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Raincoats,
Dawn Penn,
Harry Pussy,
The Evens,
Public Image Ltd.,
ABBA,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anakelly,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tommy Roe,
The Durutti Column,
Index,
Liliput,
Slick Rick,
Monolake,
Barclay James Harvest,
Qualms,
The J.B.'s,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Metal Thangz,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Scientists,
Stereo Dub,
The Buckinghams,
The Barracudas,
Icehouse,
Wally Richardson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Depeche Mode,
Godley & Creme,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Delta 5,
The Litter,
Pulsallama,
Cameo,
Mr. Review,
These Immortal Souls,
Harmonia,
Panda Bear,
Eddi Front,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultravox,
The Gories,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.