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 Djibouti and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Seeds,
D'Angelo,
Joey Negro,
Pole,
Pussy Galore,
Ten City,
Ornette Coleman,
Quadrant,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
The Fall,
DJ Sneak,
Khruangbin,
Robert Görl,
Glenn Branca,
The Tremeloes,
Babytalk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Vladislav Delay,
the Germs,
T.S.O.L.,
X-Ray Spex,
John Coltrane,
FM Einheit,
Newcleus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nico,
Sixth Finger,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
June Days,
a-ha,
Ponytail,
Harpers Bizarre,
Yellowson,
Ultra Naté,
Monolake,
Thee Headcoats,
Sällskapet,
Shuggie Otis,
Fad Gadget,
Stetsasonic,
Dorothy Ashby,
MDC,
Black Flag,
Stereo Dub,
John Cale,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Organ,
EPMD,
Roger Hodgson,
Whodini,
The Selecter,
In Retrospect,
Robert Wyatt,
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.