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 St Lucia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Donald Fagen 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 Marcia Griffiths to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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 Searchers,
Circle Jerks,
Heaven 17,
U.S. Maple,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blossom Toes,
Agent Orange,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
A Certain Ratio,
Warren Ellis,
Wally Richardson,
Can,
Mars,
Brand Nubian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Cure,
The Red Krayola,
Marmalade,
Boogie Down Productions,
Darondo,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Slits,
the Bar-Kays,
Don Cherry,
John Holt,
The Index,
a-ha,
Monolake,
Panda Bear,
Danielle Patucci,
The Leaves,
Goldenarms,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fatback Band,
Yellowson,
Neu!,
Steve Hackett,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minnie Riperton,
Slick Rick,
Simply Red,
Ten City,
Reuben Wilson,
Donald Byrd,
Gang Starr,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Skatalites,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bluetip,
Boz Scaggs,
The Moody Blues,
Althea and Donna,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
One Last Wish,
Franke,
The Birthday Party,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.