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 Bangladesh and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 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 Easy Going to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Moby Grape,
June of 44,
The Flesh Eaters,
R.M.O.,
the Soft Cell,
New York Dolls,
Ronnie Foster,
Adolescents,
The Birthday Party,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Finger,
Royal Trux,
This Heat,
The Residents,
The Red Krayola,
Mandrill,
Erykah Badu,
Alton Ellis,
New Order,
10cc,
Motorama,
Ultra Naté,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Kas Product,
Jandek,
The Cure,
Man Parrish,
The Fall,
the Germs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Popol Vuh,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kayak,
Boz Scaggs,
Technova,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hashim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bang On A Can,
Deakin,
Scientists,
cv313,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gories,
Tubeway Army,
The Wake,
The Remains,
Janne Schatter,
Fela Kuti,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
Negative Approach,
Lindisfarne,
Agitation Free,
Eden Ahbez,
Al Stewart,
Intrusion,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.