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 Singapore and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Oblivians to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Agent Orange,
The Searchers,
Max Romeo,
Negative Approach,
Scrapy,
The Cowsills,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scientists,
Harry Pussy,
David Bowie,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Von Mondo,
Danielle Patucci,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
the Soft Cell,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alphaville,
Vladislav Delay,
Sister Nancy,
Severed Heads,
Gerry Rafferty,
Susan Cadogan,
Nils Olav,
Electric Prunes,
Con Funk Shun,
Junior Murvin,
Brass Construction,
Soft Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Can,
Minny Pops,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger,
Country Teasers,
Supertramp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wolf Eyes,
John Foxx,
K-Klass,
X-Ray Spex,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Moon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Patti Smith,
Cybotron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gap Band,
Arab on Radar,
Chrome,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Bobby Womack,
D'Angelo,
Kerri Chandler,
Siglo XX,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.