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 Marshall Islands and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 the Soft Cell to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
The Cosmic Jokers,
X-101,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Move,
La Düsseldorf,
The Gun Club,
Drexciya,
Man Parrish,
The Cowsills,
Jerry's Kids,
Basic Channel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
T. Rex,
The Busters,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Names,
The Walker Brothers,
The Young Rascals,
F. McDonald,
Trumans Water,
Scion,
Guru Guru,
The Smiths,
The Victims,
Second Layer,
The Human League,
The Black Dice,
Boogie Down Productions,
Neil Young,
Bob Dylan,
Radiohead,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
Connie Case,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Associates,
Robert Wyatt,
Lakeside,
Nick Fraelich,
Iggy Pop,
Harpers Bizarre,
Traffic Nightmare,
Warsaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kurtis Blow,
Unwound,
Zero Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Hoover,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
H. Thieme,
June Days,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Standells,
Kas Product,
Anakelly,
The Pop Group,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.