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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Blake Baxter to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Leaves,
Scion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Country Teasers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Arthur Verocai,
Little Man,
Reagan Youth,
The Neon Judgement,
T. Rex,
La Düsseldorf,
F. McDonald,
Saccharine Trust,
Bizarre Inc.,
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
T.S.O.L.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Real Kids,
Swans,
Zero Boys,
Interpol,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Amazonics,
Joensuu 1685,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Banda Bassotti,
Franke,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Von Mondo,
The Fall,
Fear,
Model 500,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rotary Connection,
Radio Birdman,
Wolf Eyes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tom Boy,
Quadrant,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Litter,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
Easy Going,
Rapeman,
Moby Grape,
June of 44,
John Lydon,
The Sonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
Johnny Clarke,
Kas Product,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ultravox,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.