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 Iceland and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Fire Engines to the punk 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Divine Comedy,
F. McDonald,
Adolescents,
The Five Americans,
John Lydon,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Görl,
Lungfish,
The Real Kids,
EPMD,
Urselle,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monks,
The Toasters,
Brass Construction,
The Evens,
Spoonie Gee,
Toni Rubio,
The Cramps,
Skriet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camouflage,
Rod Modell,
Soft Machine,
The Moleskins,
The Remains,
Oblivians,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
B.T. Express,
Sparks,
Index,
Pantaleimon,
New Age Steppers,
Barrington Levy,
Donny Hathaway,
Maleditus Sound,
Moebius,
Joe Finger,
The Misunderstood,
Tim Buckley,
The Doors,
Bobby Womack,
Aswad,
The Star Department,
Panda Bear,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rites of Spring,
Visage,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fall,
The Index,
Harry Pussy,
Khruangbin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Pus,
Second Layer,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.