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 Armenia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Skarface to the rock 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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Nirvana,
Ronan,
Donny Hathaway,
Mo-Dettes,
The Selecter,
ABBA,
Pylon,
The Golliwogs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Banda Bassotti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
New Age Steppers,
Jerry's Kids,
Average White Band,
Andrew Hill,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Reed,
Flash Fearless,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
Eric Dolphy,
Wolf Eyes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minutemen,
Livin' Joy,
U.S. Maple,
Sun Ra,
AZ,
Cecil Taylor,
DJ Style,
Colin Newman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eddi Front,
Robert Görl,
Bootsy Collins,
the Slits,
The Seeds,
Buzzcocks,
Johnny Clarke,
World's Most,
Nico,
Television Personalities,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The New Christs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Peter & Gordon,
Aaron Thompson,
D'Angelo,
the Swans,
Cameo,
Heaven 17,
Duran Duran,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alison Limerick,
Scion,
Deadbeat,
Qualms,
Young Marble Giants,
Chris & Cosey,
Whodini,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.