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 Moldova and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kinks to the grunge 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
kango's stein massive,
Magma,
Neu!,
Severed Heads,
Cluster,
The Monks,
Monolake,
Nick Fraelich,
Kurtis Blow,
Tomorrow,
Liliput,
Mo-Dettes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soft Cell,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott Heron,
La Düsseldorf,
Swell Maps,
Franke,
Newcleus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Absolute Body Control,
Circle Jerks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Divine Comedy,
Zapp,
Nirvana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mandrill,
Loose Ends,
The Knickerbockers,
Eden Ahbez,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Reagan Youth,
Arthur Verocai,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grey Daturas,
The Barracudas,
R.M.O.,
8 Eyed Spy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Y Pants,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rites of Spring,
The Smoke,
Henry Cow,
Crime,
The Moody Blues,
The Skatalites,
L. Decosne,
Section 25,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
the Normal,
The Victims,
Rakim,
Radiohead,
Radio Birdman,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.