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 Equatorial Guinea and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lyres to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
The Wake,
Todd Rundgren,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Blackbyrds,
Fat Boys,
Make Up,
KRS-One,
These Immortal Souls,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Germs,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Steve Hackett,
Sällskapet,
Simply Red,
The Golliwogs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soul Sonic Force,
Heaven 17,
The Moleskins,
The Leaves,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Sherman,
Jawbox,
Goldenarms,
Bush Tetras,
One Last Wish,
Robert Wyatt,
Aswad,
Visage,
Cal Tjader,
Sugar Minott,
Newcleus,
Interpol,
New Age Steppers,
John Foxx,
Yazoo,
Livin' Joy,
Bronski Beat,
Hashim,
The Last Poets,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ludus,
Wolf Eyes,
Tubeway Army,
Maurizio,
Man Eating Sloth,
K-Klass,
Pet Shop Boys,
Camouflage,
Fear,
Roger Hodgson,
Carl Craig,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Henry Cow,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.