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 Montenegro and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Suicide to the crunk 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Fugazi,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Pus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Lydon,
Wally Richardson,
Judy Mowatt,
Rufus Thomas,
Roxette,
Warsaw,
Gang Starr,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bush Tetras,
Franke,
The Mojo Men,
Absolute Body Control,
Deepchord,
Section 25,
Henry Cow,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Maurizio,
Das Ding,
Ten City,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Shoche,
The Seeds,
Trumans Water,
Sam Rivers,
Joyce Sims,
Vladislav Delay,
Marine Girls,
The Skatalites,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eric Dolphy,
Interpol,
Nas,
Silicon Teens,
Leonard Cohen,
Rekid,
Jacques Brel,
T.S.O.L.,
Monolake,
The Birthday Party,
Niagra,
Al Stewart,
Whodini,
Loose Ends,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Agitation Free,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eden Ahbez,
Suburban Knight,
B.T. Express,
Crime,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Duran Duran,
Slick Rick,
Zapp,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.