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 Taiwan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pretty Things to the rock 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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Womack,
Glenn Branca,
Barry Ungar,
Silicon Teens,
Goldenarms,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Iggy Pop,
Janne Schatter,
Jacques Brel,
Stetsasonic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick May,
R.M.O.,
Nik Kershaw,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Walker Brothers,
Rapeman,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Sherman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Amazonics,
The Mojo Men,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Almond,
The Moody Blues,
Fela Kuti,
Metal Thangz,
Smog,
Skarface,
cv313,
David Bowie,
Eric Dolphy,
Accadde A,
Jacob Miller,
Morten Harket,
Bob Dylan,
L. Decosne,
Black Pus,
Country Teasers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Arab on Radar,
Model 500,
Marcia Griffiths,
Erykah Badu,
ABBA,
Mark Hollis,
Cymande,
Shuggie Otis,
Dark Day,
Tomorrow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Donny Hathaway,
Darondo,
Fear,
The Toasters,
UT,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.