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 Mauritania and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Music Machine to the punk 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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Symarip,
Carl Craig,
Surgeon,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
ABBA,
Neu!,
The J.B.'s,
10cc,
K-Klass,
Stiv Bators,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ludus,
Infiniti,
Eve St. Jones,
Duran Duran,
The Star Department,
Eden Ahbez,
Y Pants,
Intrusion,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Stooges,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Alton Ellis,
UT,
Black Bananas,
the Bar-Kays,
Roy Ayers,
Idris Muhammad,
Cecil Taylor,
Howard Jones,
The Smoke,
The Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Smog,
Eli Mardock,
Joey Negro,
Warsaw,
Brass Construction,
Silicon Teens,
The American Breed,
Erasure,
Sam Rivers,
The Divine Comedy,
Inner City,
Second Layer,
Graham Central Station,
Barry Ungar,
KRS-One,
EPMD,
Simply Red,
The Searchers,
Massinfluence,
James White and The Blacks,
Dave Gahan,
Sonic Youth,
Pierre Henry,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.