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 Mexico and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Severed Heads to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Young Marble Giants,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Half Japanese,
Sex Pistols,
Connie Case,
The Star Department,
H. Thieme,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sällskapet,
Gang Green,
JFA,
Section 25,
Slick Rick,
Subhumans,
Marvin Gaye,
Jawbox,
June Days,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Steve Hackett,
Eden Ahbez,
Grey Daturas,
Crooked Eye,
Main Source,
Khruangbin,
Alison Limerick,
Derrick Morgan,
Lungfish,
New Age Steppers,
Radiohead,
The Divine Comedy,
The Moleskins,
Skriet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jeff Lynne,
Chrome,
Avey Tare,
The Birthday Party,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lindisfarne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Flag,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cybotron,
Man Eating Sloth,
Peter and Kerry,
Pulsallama,
Tears for Fears,
The Modern Lovers,
Toni Rubio,
A Certain Ratio,
Whodini,
Danielle Patucci,
Stereo Dub,
The Toasters,
Quando Quango,
CMW,
Tommy Roe,
Soulsonic Force,
Soul II Soul,
Interpol,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.