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 Syria and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 David Bowie 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
The Five Americans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Martian,
The Monks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Roxy Music,
The American Breed,
Buzzcocks,
The Dead C,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
June of 44,
Dave Gahan,
Sam Rivers,
Fela Kuti,
Marc Almond,
The Wake,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James White and The Blacks,
Letta Mbulu,
Fear,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marvin Gaye,
Flipper,
Slick Rick,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kurtis Blow,
Brass Construction,
Suburban Knight,
Jacques Brel,
Ronnie Foster,
Suicide,
Frankie Knuckles,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faraquet,
Sun City Girls,
Siglo XX,
Eric B and Rakim,
Loose Ends,
Gang of Four,
Gerry Rafferty,
Brand Nubian,
Masters at Work,
Subhumans,
Deakin,
Peter & Gordon,
Chris Corsano,
The Beau Brummels,
Shuggie Otis,
Tears for Fears,
Juan Atkins,
the Sonics,
Q and Not U,
Slave,
Lou Reed,
Pussy Galore,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.