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 Netherlands and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Juan Atkins to the dance 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Don Cherry,
The Angels of Light,
Bill Wells,
Eddi Front,
Rekid,
The Barracudas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tomorrow,
Franke,
Nirvana,
John Holt,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pagans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Lyres,
The Modern Lovers,
Newcleus,
Amon Düül,
Second Layer,
Q65,
Dark Day,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Enemy,
Soulsonic Force,
Technova,
Lungfish,
the Bar-Kays,
Half Japanese,
Deakin,
Blancmange,
Lightning Bolt,
Visage,
Connie Case,
Siglo XX,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lalann,
Hardrive,
Vladislav Delay,
L. Decosne,
The Five Americans,
This Heat,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
The American Breed,
B.T. Express,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Moon,
Lebanon Hanover,
ABC,
The Names,
Pulsallama,
Fear,
Anakelly,
Henry Cow,
Robert Wyatt,
Agitation Free,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.