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 Bahamas and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sisters of Mercy 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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 Young Rascals,
Erykah Badu,
The Saints,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gories,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Slackers,
Rod Modell,
ABC,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Brand Nubian,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill,
Bobby Sherman,
Quadrant,
Freddie Wadling,
Young Marble Giants,
Dead Boys,
K-Klass,
The Residents,
Rakim,
Al Stewart,
E-Dancer,
Donny Hathaway,
Groovy Waters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang of Four,
Symarip,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Bar-Kays,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Television Personalities,
Harpers Bizarre,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Japan,
Fat Boys,
The Fall,
The Kinks,
Cymande,
PIL,
Shoche,
T.S.O.L.,
Kas Product,
The Seeds,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dave Clark Five,
David McCallum,
JFA,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
Clear Light,
Cabaret Voltaire,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
the Association,
Kayak,
Faust,
Marine Girls,
Black Moon,
Chris Corsano,
Chrome,
The Angels of Light,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.