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 Latvia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Knickerbockers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
The Red Krayola,
Dual Sessions,
Marmalade,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Bar-Kays,
Supertramp,
The Doors,
Spandau Ballet,
EPMD,
Pylon,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Zeros,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Lynne,
Colin Newman,
Nils Olav,
Severed Heads,
Sister Nancy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mojo Men,
Dennis Brown,
Harmonia,
Sällskapet,
Tommy Roe,
The Cramps,
Groovy Waters,
Gang of Four,
Eric Dolphy,
The Invisible,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ken Boothe,
MC5,
Dead Boys,
Circle Jerks,
The Monks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Subhumans,
Surgeon,
Black Moon,
Radiohead,
Bauhaus,
Duran Duran,
Crispy Ambulance,
H. Thieme,
Kerri Chandler,
Dave Gahan,
Frankie Knuckles,
a-ha,
Dark Day,
The Barracudas,
Pussy Galore,
The Black Dice,
Robert Görl,
Lee Hazlewood,
Byron Stingily,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.