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 Peru and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron 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 Cal Tjader to the electroclash 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
New York Dolls,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Pop Group,
Moby Grape,
Heaven 17,
Ornette Coleman,
Donald Byrd,
Warren Ellis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monks,
Bobby Byrd,
Bauhaus,
Royal Trux,
Severed Heads,
R.M.O.,
Ultravox,
Stiv Bators,
Visage,
Barclay James Harvest,
Banda Bassotti,
Girls At Our Best!,
Public Enemy,
Cluster,
Black Moon,
Scott Walker,
John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Zapp,
Black Flag,
Minny Pops,
Terry Callier,
Marmalade,
Mantronix,
UT,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joe Finger,
The Busters,
Joe Smooth,
10cc,
the Slits,
Schoolly D,
Radiohead,
Circle Jerks,
The Techniques,
Ultra Naté,
Cybotron,
Bluetip,
Khruangbin,
The Gories,
Joy Division,
Organ,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cheater Slicks,
The American Breed,
The Cramps,
Dual Sessions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harmonia,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Patti Smith,
Sun Ra,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.