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 Barbados and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the dance 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Alphaville,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
the Swans,
Shuggie Otis,
James White and The Blacks,
Spoonie Gee,
F. McDonald,
E-Dancer,
Nas,
La Düsseldorf,
The Young Rascals,
Freddie Wadling,
T. Rex,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Interpol,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sight & Sound,
DNA,
Agent Orange,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sandy B,
Deepchord,
Prince Buster,
Rosa Yemen,
Malaria!,
Crash Course in Science,
Grey Daturas,
Brass Construction,
Mars,
Intrusion,
Don Cherry,
Outsiders,
Ultra Naté,
X-Ray Spex,
Delon & Dalcan,
Erykah Badu,
Procol Harum,
Brick,
Henry Cow,
The Fire Engines,
Moebius,
Fort Wilson Riot,
ABBA,
Boredoms,
Sarah Menescal,
Second Layer,
Excepter,
Bootsy Collins,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Boz Scaggs,
48th St. Collective,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tom Boy,
Desert Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Pere Ubu,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.