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 Guinea-Bissau and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lou Reed to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
The Last Poets,
Minny Pops,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
the Association,
Scott Walker,
The Angels of Light,
David Axelrod,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Sherman,
Duran Duran,
UT,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sandy B,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Glenn Branca,
Masters at Work,
Dual Sessions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stiv Bators,
The Dead C,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tim Buckley,
Eli Mardock,
Ludus,
Magma,
Jerry's Kids,
Mission of Burma,
Scion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skaos,
Wings,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
The Stooges,
Pagans,
Fugazi,
Tubeway Army,
T. Rex,
K-Klass,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tommy Roe,
Skriet,
Unrelated Segments,
Dead Boys,
Bad Manners,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Residents,
Kas Product,
Fear,
Fatback Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Warren Ellis,
Drexciya,
Cluster,
Shuggie Otis,
Fluxion,
Patti Smith,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.