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 Montenegro and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cowsills to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
James White and The Blacks,
Joy Division,
Terrestrial Tones,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Interpol,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dark Day,
Amon Düül,
Kas Product,
Unwound,
Tim Buckley,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Young Rascals,
Hoover,
The Evens,
Cluster,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Saccharine Trust,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Talk Talk,
Faust,
Sound Behaviour,
Jacques Brel,
The Mojo Men,
Tropical Tobacco,
June of 44,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Graham Central Station,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Christie,
Agent Orange,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Arab on Radar,
Shuggie Otis,
The Martian,
Malaria!,
the Bar-Kays,
Minutemen,
The American Breed,
Arthur Verocai,
Barry Ungar,
Sällskapet,
John Holt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nick Fraelich,
Kerri Chandler,
Nas,
Banda Bassotti,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mars,
One Last Wish,
Judy Mowatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.