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 Papua New Guinea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Oblivians to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Funkadelic,
The Durutti Column,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ice-T,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Litter,
Wire,
Minny Pops,
Blancmange,
The Angels of Light,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Neon Judgement,
Rosa Yemen,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Janne Schatter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Smog,
The Sonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fugs,
Flipper,
The Fortunes,
Dorothy Ashby,
DJ Sneak,
Ultravox,
Hardrive,
Hot Snakes,
Von Mondo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sun City Girls,
Alphaville,
Swans,
Soulsonic Force,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Delon & Dalcan,
Yaz,
Dawn Penn,
Stetsasonic,
Kurtis Blow,
Kayak,
Ronnie Foster,
Icehouse,
Index,
Babytalk,
The Zeros,
Clear Light,
Chris Corsano,
Delta 5,
Arcadia,
These Immortal Souls,
John Coltrane,
The Beau Brummels,
Wasted Youth,
The Mojo Men,
Eddi Front,
Toni Rubio,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.