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 Guatemala and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mighty Diamonds to the grime 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Thompson Twins,
Rapeman,
The Blackbyrds,
Hashim,
Shuggie Otis,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
The Gories,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fuzztones,
Das Ding,
Oblivians,
Animal Collective,
Ornette Coleman,
Alison Limerick,
Moss Icon,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pet Shop Boys,
L. Decosne,
Main Source,
Spandau Ballet,
Livin' Joy,
Pussy Galore,
Archie Shepp,
Marmalade,
Panda Bear,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Arthur Verocai,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ken Boothe,
Peter & Gordon,
The Victims,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Severed Heads,
Eurythmics,
Inner City,
Zapp,
Clear Light,
Nick Fraelich,
the Germs,
Intrusion,
Bootsy Collins,
Index,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Star Department,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Sixth Finger,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ten City,
Grandmaster Flash,
Circle Jerks,
Graham Central Station,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dark Day,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.