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 China and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the oboe 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 Chris & Cosey to the techno 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Agitation Free,
Graham Central Station,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Y Pants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Blancmange,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Organ,
The Count Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sound Behaviour,
AZ,
Judy Mowatt,
Lightning Bolt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ossler,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
Boz Scaggs,
Junior Murvin,
Dennis Brown,
Sex Pistols,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kas Product,
Reagan Youth,
Deadbeat,
Sugar Minott,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
Rites of Spring,
The Fuzztones,
Metal Thangz,
Lindisfarne,
Roy Ayers,
Masters at Work,
Dawn Penn,
Funkadelic,
X-101,
Charles Mingus,
Black Bananas,
Brand Nubian,
Lalann,
The Five Americans,
Lou Christie,
The Golliwogs,
Radio Birdman,
The Standells,
Supertramp,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Associates,
Archie Shepp,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arab on Radar,
Scratch Acid,
Bill Near,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.