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 Canada and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bang On A Can,
Marine Girls,
Soft Machine,
The Red Krayola,
Alphaville,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
Quantec,
Deepchord,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Trojans,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
The Vogues,
Wally Richardson,
Loose Ends,
Juan Atkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Young Marble Giants,
48th St. Collective,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Techniques,
Iggy Pop,
Subhumans,
Black Sheep,
Erasure,
MDC,
Soft Cell,
David Axelrod,
The Moody Blues,
Spandau Ballet,
Funkadelic,
Black Pus,
Faraquet,
Morten Harket,
Bob Dylan,
Liliput,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tears for Fears,
Buzzcocks,
The Grass Roots,
Grandmaster Flash,
Public Image Ltd.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sixth Finger,
Barry Ungar,
Henry Cow,
Tommy Roe,
Blancmange,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Busters,
D'Angelo,
Kas Product,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Index,
Lucky Dragons,
Moss Icon,
The Dirtbombs,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.