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 Nauru and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 KRS-One to the funk 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Jesper Dahlback,
Malaria!,
Andrew Hill,
The Happenings,
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Pretty Things,
the Swans,
Shuggie Otis,
Funkadelic,
Essential Logic,
Warsaw,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Minor Threat,
The Gladiators,
48th St. Collective,
Sex Pistols,
T.S.O.L.,
Parry Music,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crooked Eye,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Hood,
The Gories,
Marcia Griffiths,
Von Mondo,
Icehouse,
Joe Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
The Seeds,
The Human League,
The Litter,
Amon Düül II,
Banda Bassotti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aloha Tigers,
This Heat,
Ultravox,
Nik Kershaw,
Talk Talk,
David Bowie,
Derrick Morgan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Invisible,
Intrusion,
The Gun Club,
The Knickerbockers,
the Germs,
Minny Pops,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Simply Red,
Reuben Wilson,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.