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 Cambodia and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Terry Callier to the crunk 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Franke,
U.S. Maple,
Gong,
Circle Jerks,
Bootsy Collins,
Joey Negro,
The Motions,
The Trojans,
Rites of Spring,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David McCallum,
Gang Green,
FM Einheit,
Dawn Penn,
10cc,
Sällskapet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cowsills,
Don Cherry,
Scion,
Kayak,
Sun Ra,
John Coltrane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobby Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
the Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lalann,
Stereo Dub,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Henry Cow,
Bob Dylan,
June of 44,
Jeff Lynne,
Absolute Body Control,
Heaven 17,
Boogie Down Productions,
R.M.O.,
Royal Trux,
X-102,
Andrew Hill,
Stockholm Monsters,
Young Marble Giants,
H. Thieme,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thee Headcoats,
James White and The Blacks,
Mission of Burma,
Simply Red,
The Slackers,
Joyce Sims,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Main Source,
Cluster,
Rotary Connection,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.