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 Africa and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
The Skatalites,
The Motions,
Chrome,
MDC,
The Monochrome Set,
Eurythmics,
Heaven 17,
Section 25,
The Misunderstood,
Prince Buster,
Sixth Finger,
Mission of Burma,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wings,
The Cramps,
the Normal,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Joe Finger,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Germs,
Cecil Taylor,
These Immortal Souls,
Clear Light,
Bootsy Collins,
Bluetip,
OOIOO,
Excepter,
Interpol,
Little Man,
Curtis Mayfield,
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
Boredoms,
The Saints,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hoover,
June of 44,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Moon,
Mr. Review,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joensuu 1685,
The Names,
Archie Shepp,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Standells,
Jawbox,
The Red Krayola,
Avey Tare,
Siglo XX,
Guru Guru,
Technova,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Black Pus,
Television,
The Index,
ABBA,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.