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 Micronesia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 The Detroit Cobras to the funk 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Delta 5,
Interpol,
The Neon Judgement,
Marine Girls,
K-Klass,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kenny Larkin,
Lucky Dragons,
Pere Ubu,
Bauhaus,
Nirvana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
The Angels of Light,
Robert Hood,
the Soft Cell,
Leonard Cohen,
Franke,
Gang of Four,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slits,
T. Rex,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Camouflage,
The Doors,
Fluxion,
A Certain Ratio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Masters at Work,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hoover,
Todd Terry,
Chris & Cosey,
The Red Krayola,
Dual Sessions,
Rod Modell,
Agent Orange,
Bill Near,
The Vogues,
Whodini,
The Mummies,
Ponytail,
Man Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Wyatt,
Malaria!,
Quadrant,
Rites of Spring,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Smoke,
The Moleskins,
Roy Ayers,
The Mojo Men,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
10cc,
Tom Boy,
Public Enemy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.