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 Ireland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Duran Duran to the rap 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Slick Rick,
Boz Scaggs,
Kenny Larkin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Depeche Mode,
Peter and Kerry,
Eric Copeland,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Almond,
The Smoke,
Ronan,
Lower 48,
Roxette,
Amon Düül,
Lindisfarne,
Hoover,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scratch Acid,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Amazonics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fela Kuti,
Stetsasonic,
Joyce Sims,
Basic Channel,
Pet Shop Boys,
Max Romeo,
Malaria!,
The Golliwogs,
Eve St. Jones,
The Grass Roots,
Shuggie Otis,
One Last Wish,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Green,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jacques Brel,
Tears for Fears,
Kerri Chandler,
Harpers Bizarre,
Carl Craig,
the Sonics,
Yusef Lateef,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Saints,
Matthew Halsall,
Iggy Pop,
The Sound,
X-101,
Gang Gang Dance,
Electric Prunes,
Public Enemy,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
Lakeside,
Little Man,
The Kinks,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.