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 Eritrea and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Holger Czukay 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 Duran Duran 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Mad Mike,
PIL,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pantytec,
Amon Düül,
Accadde A,
Chris & Cosey,
The Motions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Roger Hodgson,
Connie Case,
The American Breed,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Silicon Teens,
This Heat,
Altered Images,
Pulsallama,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Little Man,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Don Cherry,
Michelle Simonal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fear,
These Immortal Souls,
Lucky Dragons,
X-102,
Lalann,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yazoo,
Vladislav Delay,
Fela Kuti,
D'Angelo,
Roy Ayers,
Joe Smooth,
Sugar Minott,
Trumans Water,
Darondo,
Drive Like Jehu,
Archie Shepp,
Reagan Youth,
Fat Boys,
Simply Red,
Neu!,
The Buckinghams,
Dave Gahan,
The Raincoats,
Ultimate Spinach,
Big Daddy Kane,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Invisible,
The Shadows of Knight,
B.T. Express,
Organ,
Anakelly,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.