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 Morocco and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
The Residents,
The Names,
Skriet,
The Vogues,
Al Stewart,
48th St. Collective,
The Leaves,
The Black Dice,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sugar Minott,
Tres Demented,
The Move,
Crash Course in Science,
New Order,
Das Ding,
Robert Görl,
Neil Young,
Sparks,
Arcadia,
Quadrant,
The Motions,
Marine Girls,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Sound Behaviour,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Judy Mowatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Khruangbin,
Easy Going,
Janne Schatter,
Jandek,
Intrusion,
The Knickerbockers,
Mars,
John Lydon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
World's Most,
Television Personalities,
Livin' Joy,
Outsiders,
Man Parrish,
Monks,
Fad Gadget,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fall,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Walker Brothers,
T. Rex,
Skarface,
Section 25,
Bobby Sherman,
Chris & Cosey,
The Star Department,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Isaac Hayes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.