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 Bulgaria and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 Niagra to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 Young Rascals,
Cameo,
Porter Ricks,
The Move,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Youth Brigade,
Quando Quango,
Pagans,
Metal Thangz,
Sparks,
Grey Daturas,
Slick Rick,
X-Ray Spex,
Bluetip,
Motorama,
Crime,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Kinks,
Y Pants,
the Normal,
Blake Baxter,
Gong,
Pierre Henry,
Cheater Slicks,
The Litter,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
a-ha,
Intrusion,
Neil Young,
Charles Mingus,
Ponytail,
Saccharine Trust,
John Foxx,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Monks,
Janne Schatter,
The Gun Club,
Sällskapet,
Flamin' Groovies,
Faust,
The Dead C,
The Trojans,
Mr. Review,
Livin' Joy,
Average White Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
Lightning Bolt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeff Lynne,
Make Up,
Con Funk Shun,
Banda Bassotti,
Lou Christie,
Circle Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jawbox,
Vainqueur,
Sun City Girls,
Easy Going,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.