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 Mexico City.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Eve St. Jones,
Symarip,
Pylon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Buzzcocks,
The Slits,
Quadrant,
Boz Scaggs,
Man Parrish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sugar Minott,
Q and Not U,
Delon & Dalcan,
Half Japanese,
Soul Sonic Force,
Charles Mingus,
The Red Krayola,
The Offenders,
Index,
Bluetip,
Vladislav Delay,
Arab on Radar,
Soft Machine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gang Starr,
Talk Talk,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Standells,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lyres,
Second Layer,
Aural Exciters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Can,
Cymande,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Harry Pussy,
The Gories,
Oblivians,
Mark Hollis,
Marmalade,
Public Image Ltd.,
Spoonie Gee,
Skriet,
Colin Newman,
The Searchers,
Alice Coltrane,
Visage,
The Dirtbombs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Dead C,
Pierre Henry,
The Barracudas,
Moebius,
Maleditus Sound,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.