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 Algeria and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 LL Cool J to the punk 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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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 Busters,
The Wake,
The Raincoats,
Popol Vuh,
June Days,
The Electric Prunes,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Section 25,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pussy Galore,
Neil Young,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Human League,
Slave,
Adolescents,
Banda Bassotti,
Von Mondo,
Lightning Bolt,
The Victims,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobby Hutcherson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Johnny Clarke,
Bill Near,
Circle Jerks,
Joe Finger,
Glenn Branca,
These Immortal Souls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spandau Ballet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Livin' Joy,
Intrusion,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Q65,
Eli Mardock,
Wally Richardson,
Kerri Chandler,
Fear,
Amazonics,
The Monochrome Set,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Clear Light,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
Crash Course in Science,
Moss Icon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pantaleimon,
Erykah Badu,
Todd Rundgren,
Minny Pops,
Country Teasers,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.