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 Algeria and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 punk 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
The Alarm Clocks,
Charles Mingus,
The Happenings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Morten Harket,
Eddi Front,
Robert Görl,
The Skatalites,
Jacques Brel,
T. Rex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Music Machine,
Delta 5,
Los Fastidios,
Neu!,
Spandau Ballet,
Kurtis Blow,
Deadbeat,
DJ Style,
JFA,
Gong,
Susan Cadogan,
Masters at Work,
Flash Fearless,
Grandmaster Flash,
U.S. Maple,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Names,
Khruangbin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
The American Breed,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Evens,
Maurizio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
Lindisfarne,
Crime,
Fugazi,
Hoover,
Mad Mike,
Dark Day,
Sparks,
Youth Brigade,
The Golliwogs,
Black Bananas,
D'Angelo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Public Enemy,
The Smoke,
Yusef Lateef,
Monolake,
Fatback Band,
Tubeway Army,
Glenn Branca,
Dennis Brown,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Graham Central Station,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.