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 Kyrgyzstan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 the Soft Cell to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Funky Four + One,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kayak,
Jawbox,
The Toasters,
Avey Tare,
Icehouse,
Alice Coltrane,
Buzzcocks,
Model 500,
Gabor Szabo,
Albert Ayler,
Amon Düül,
the Sonics,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Seeds,
Young Marble Giants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ohio Players,
Japan,
Harmonia,
Letta Mbulu,
The Names,
The Moody Blues,
Morten Harket,
Sam Rivers,
Moss Icon,
Bush Tetras,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Slits,
Scrapy,
The Modern Lovers,
Los Fastidios,
D'Angelo,
The United States of America,
World's Most,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cure,
Black Flag,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
Guru Guru,
Ronan,
Junior Murvin,
UT,
Pole,
Sun City Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Gong,
Amon Düül II,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Youth Brigade,
The Fugs,
The Index,
Hardrive,
The Monks,
the Germs,
Faust,
Bobby Sherman,
Jacques Brel,
Rakim,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.