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 Comoros and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pantytec to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Nick Fraelich,
Sandy B,
Bobby Womack,
Average White Band,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
Swell Maps,
Soft Cell,
Fugazi,
AZ,
The Pop Group,
Gong,
Index,
The Moleskins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pantaleimon,
Absolute Body Control,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeff Mills,
Minutemen,
Boz Scaggs,
John Cale,
The Index,
The Searchers,
Dead Boys,
The Vogues,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stereo Dub,
The Names,
Alphaville,
Crispy Ambulance,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
Maurizio,
Ultravox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Skatalites,
Severed Heads,
Newcleus,
Reuben Wilson,
Wolf Eyes,
John Foxx,
Terry Callier,
Minny Pops,
Marmalade,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
Stiv Bators,
Aswad,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Matthew Bourne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Monolake,
Unrelated Segments,
Television,
Brothers Johnson,
Don Cherry,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.