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 Luxembourg and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Outsiders to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
X-Ray Spex,
The American Breed,
Bluetip,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lyres,
Hoover,
Jacob Miller,
Cymande,
Scrapy,
Althea and Donna,
Tim Buckley,
Donny Hathaway,
The Index,
Buzzcocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Whodini,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Buckinghams,
Eric Copeland,
Amon Düül,
Smog,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gories,
Maleditus Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tubeway Army,
The Walker Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Fat Boys,
Malaria!,
Ice-T,
Agent Orange,
Pere Ubu,
JFA,
Michelle Simonal,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June of 44,
Jerry's Kids,
Half Japanese,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Qualms,
E-Dancer,
Glenn Branca,
Television,
The Leaves,
Quantec,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rapeman,
The Standells,
Scion,
The Divine Comedy,
The Red Krayola,
ABC,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.