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 St Lucia and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Make Up,
Arab on Radar,
Half Japanese,
Drive Like Jehu,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soft Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Matthew Bourne,
Marine Girls,
CMW,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Saccharine Trust,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Infiniti,
Al Stewart,
The Selecter,
Bobby Byrd,
Moss Icon,
Sam Rivers,
Yusef Lateef,
New York Dolls,
Thee Headcoats,
Rakim,
Black Pus,
Magma,
the Soft Cell,
Agent Orange,
Alice Coltrane,
Yellowson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vladislav Delay,
Agitation Free,
Youth Brigade,
The Slackers,
Eden Ahbez,
Barbara Tucker,
Bauhaus,
Heaven 17,
Aswad,
The Sound,
Pussy Galore,
Ludus,
Man Parrish,
Morten Harket,
The Busters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Litter,
Fad Gadget,
The Moleskins,
The Invisible,
Leonard Cohen,
Con Funk Shun,
Yazoo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cymande,
Animal Collective,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Radiohead,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.