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 South Sudan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the oboe 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 Connie Case to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
New Order,
Circle Jerks,
Zapp,
The J.B.'s,
The United States of America,
Chrome,
Lower 48,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Max Romeo,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
Junior Murvin,
the Soft Cell,
Massinfluence,
Ken Boothe,
The Real Kids,
Dark Day,
The Gladiators,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delta 5,
The Skatalites,
Bootsy Collins,
Nation of Ulysses,
New Age Steppers,
Wings,
Girls At Our Best!,
Minor Threat,
H. Thieme,
Lyres,
Suburban Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eden Ahbez,
Scrapy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Slave,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Trumans Water,
Don Cherry,
Eric Dolphy,
Camouflage,
X-102,
The Techniques,
Scion,
Piero Umiliani,
Roger Hodgson,
Aural Exciters,
the Swans,
Skaos,
Bush Tetras,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
Josef K,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Vainqueur,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Monks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gun Club,
Chris Corsano,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.