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 Iran and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Soft Machine 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
A Certain Ratio,
Maurizio,
Radiopuhelimet,
Minor Threat,
Yazoo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric Copeland,
The Fugs,
Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Saccharine Trust,
Popol Vuh,
Byron Stingily,
10cc,
Letta Mbulu,
Peter and Kerry,
CMW,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Walker Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stereo Dub,
Cheater Slicks,
Howard Jones,
Index,
Theoretical Girls,
Johnny Clarke,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Guru Guru,
The Evens,
The Gun Club,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bluetip,
Procol Harum,
Judy Mowatt,
Gichy Dan,
New York Dolls,
Donald Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
Amazonics,
the Soft Cell,
Icehouse,
Kenny Larkin,
Iggy Pop,
The Young Rascals,
Blossom Toes,
Grauzone,
Moss Icon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moby Grape,
Rhythm & Sound,
Los Fastidios,
Prince Buster,
AZ,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.