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 Congo and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Harry Pussy to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
John Holt,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
The Blues Magoos,
Cybotron,
Rhythm & Sound,
Index,
Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Neu!,
The Zeros,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alice Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Godley & Creme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Beau Brummels,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
B.T. Express,
Piero Umiliani,
a-ha,
Charles Mingus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Last Poets,
The Tremeloes,
Ludus,
the Association,
T. Rex,
Tears for Fears,
Wolf Eyes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Intrusion,
Minny Pops,
Yusef Lateef,
Mad Mike,
Depeche Mode,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bob Dylan,
Wire,
Moebius,
Patti Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Joy Division,
the Slits,
Tropical Tobacco,
Surgeon,
Lungfish,
Smog,
Robert Hood,
Soulsonic Force,
Barclay James Harvest,
Severed Heads,
Pagans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Saccharine Trust,
Simply Red,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.