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 Yemen and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 güiro 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 Sixth Finger to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
The Gun Club,
Joe Smooth,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David Bowie,
The Angels of Light,
Echospace,
Oneida,
Anakelly,
Basic Channel,
Quando Quango,
Junior Murvin,
Sun Ra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics,
The Remains,
Vladislav Delay,
Steve Hackett,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
FM Einheit,
Smog,
K-Klass,
X-102,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Wake,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
Bronski Beat,
The Young Rascals,
Aural Exciters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Agitation Free,
Stetsasonic,
Joy Division,
The Toasters,
A Certain Ratio,
Cymande,
Nirvana,
Funky Four + One,
The Slits,
The Gladiators,
Funkadelic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DJ Style,
Audionom,
Bill Near,
Masters at Work,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Adolescents,
Scan 7,
Visage,
Swans,
Sällskapet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.